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COPYRIGHT DEPOSITV 










































HISTORICAL BOOKS BY AMY E. 
BLANCHARD. 


A GIRL OF ’76. A Story of the Early Period 
of the War for Independence. Illustrated. 
33 1 P a ges. Cloth. $1.50. 

A REVOLUTIONARY MAID. A STORY OF THE 
Middle Period of the War for Independence. 
Illustrated. 321 pages. Cloth. $1.50. 

A DAUGHTER OF FREEDOM. A STORY OF THE 
Latter Period of the War for Independence. 
Illustrated. 312 pages. Cloth. $1.50. 


A HEROINE OF 1812. A Maryland Romance. 
Illustrated. 335 pages. Cloth. $1.50. 

A LOYAL LASS. A Story of the Niagara Cam¬ 
paign of 1814. Illustrated. 319 pages. Cloth. 
$1.50. 

IN THE “ PIONEER SERIES.” 

A GENTLE PIONEER. Being THE STORY OF THE 
Early Days in the New West. Illustrated. 
336 pages. Cloth. $1.50. 

BONNY LESLEY OF THE BORDER. A STORY. 
Illustrated, ^i pages. Cloth. $i.$o. 

I * A FRONTIER KNIGHT. A Story of Early 
Texan Border-Life. Illustrated. 339 pages. 
Cloth. $1.50. 








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Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess 


By 

AMY E. BLANCHARD 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
J. W. FERGUSON KENNEDY 



W. A. WILDE COMPANY 

BOSTON CHICAGO 












Copyrighted , igij 
By W. A. Wilde Company 
^// ngA/j reserved 


Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess 


To 

the very young author 
Dorothy Benson 

that the future may bring her many 
admiring readers is the wish of 
her appreciative and loving friend 

Amy E. Blanchard 


CONTENTS 


I. 

The Bird’s Nest . 



11 

II. 

Little Brown Betty, Where 

Art 



Thou? .... 



26 

III. 

The Cave 



41 

IY. 

The Bescue . 



55 

Y. 

When Night Came 



G8 

YI. 

A Penitent 



81 

YII. 

Fred and Phil 



94 

YIII. 

His Honor 



109 

IX. 

Elizabeth Writes Poetry 



123 

X. 

Betsy Hears News 



135 

XI. 

The Receipted Bill 



147 

XII. 

The First Quarrel 



160 

XIII. 

Her Precious Eyes 



174 

XIY. 

Weary Days . 



189 

XY. 

What the Doctor Said 



202 

XYI. 

A Belligerent Neighbor 



215 

XVII. 

Elizabeth Goes Calling 



229 

XVIII. 

The Beautiful Lady . 



244 

XIX. 

A Change of Plans 



258 

XX. 

All Together Again . 



270 


7 
















Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess 



Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess 


CHAPTER I 


THE BIRD’S NEST 


HE three were sitting on the wood-pile in the 



JL Lyndes’ back yard. There were really three, 
and not the confusing one of the nursery rhyme. 
Elizabeth was slyly tying little bits of bark into Bess’s 
long hair while Betsy looked demurely on. 

“ There really is a nest there,” Bess was saying, un¬ 
conscious of the primitive adornment of her tresses. 
“ I saw it myself, and there were eggs in it. I am sure 
something happened to the mother bird, for I watched 
and waited a long time and she didn’t come. Then 
I touched the eggs very, very softly, and they weren’t 
warm a bit.” 

“ Let’s go,” cried Elizabeth so suddenly that she 
gave a little tweak to Bess’s bark-adorned locks and 
brought forth a small squeal from Bess. 

“Elizabeth Hollins, what have you been doing?” 
she asked indignantly as she pulled a strand of hair 
around where she could see it. 


11 


12 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


Betsy giggled, and Elizabeth with dancing eyes said 
in excuse: “ It was so tempting, Bess, and I have to do 
something with my hands. You know Satan finds 
some mischief still for idle hands to do.” 

“ Then I wish he would find something for you to 
do besides playing with my hair,” returned Bess busy¬ 
ing herself with unplaiting the tortured locks. “ Why 
don’t you play with your own hair ? ” 

“ It’s too short,” replied Elizabeth shaking her auburn 
head. “ Never mind, Bess, I’ll help you unbraid it be¬ 
fore you go home. Don’t let’s wait to do it now ; we 
want to see the bird’s nest.” 

“ No,” returned Bess positively, “ it’s got to be made 
tidy. My grandmother would be shocked to see it so, 
and my mother would, too.” 

“ Oh, you can just twist it up under your hat and 
they won’t notice as we go by,” argued Elizabeth. 

“ No, I’m not going one step, I tell you, till my hair 
is in order. You can’t find the nest without me, and 
so you’d just better stay here and get my hair all right 
again.” 

“ O dear, you’re such a very particular person, 
Bess,” replied Elizabeth. “ Your bow must always be 
tied just so, and you will wear a hat always. Now I 
shouldn’t care if my hair were full of bark, or twigs, or 
leaves, or even-” 


THE BIRD’S NEST 


13 


“ Caterpillars ,’ 5 put in Betsy. “ There is a big green 
one on it now.” 

Elizabeth jumped up with a shriek, shaking her head 
violently. “ Take it off! Take it off ! ” she cried. “ I 
can stand mice, and cows, and even spiders, but I 
loathe caterpillars.” 

Betsy coolly plucked off the offending caterpillar 
from the sleeve of her dress, where it had fallen be¬ 
cause of Elizabeth’s violent shaking, and placed it on 
Elizabeth’s sleeve. “ Allow me to return your lost 
property, Miss Hollins,” she said. 

“ Betsy Tyson, you’re just horrid,” cried Elizabeth 
flipping off the caterpillar with a bit of twig. “I 
never saw such a tease.” 

“Yes, you did,” put in Bess; “you see one every 
time you look in the glass.” 

“ Smarty,” returned Elizabeth, but the remark 
sobered her to the degree of making her help Bess 
with her hair which was soon rid of its decorations. 

Then they started off, Elizabeth with a hop, skip, 
and jump, which made her gleaming, copper-colored 
hair dance up and down. Dark little Betsy followed, 
while Bess, walking decorously, brought up the rear. 

They were so very different, these three staunch 
friends, that it is a wonder they hung together so 
steadfastly. Elizabeth lived in the rambling brown 


14 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


house just at the edge of the village. She was the 
third in a family of five children. Dick, her eldest 
brother, was nearly twenty. Katharine came next 
and was two years younger. Elizabeth was between 
eleven and twelve. Following her were Bert, a mis¬ 
chievous urchin of nine, and last of all Barbara, who 
was never called anything but Babs and who was 
four. 

Betsy Tyson and her brother Hal lived with their 
uncle and great-aunt in a large brick house in the 
center of the village. It was considered quite the 
finest place in town. Miss Emily Tyson was very 
fond of her flower garden, while her nephew, Squire 
Robert, as he was called, delighted in his fine fruits. 

Bess Ferguson was an only child. She and her 
widowed mother made their home with Mrs. Lynde, 
Bess’s grandmother, whose white house with high 
columns was pointed out to strangers as a true colonial 
dwelling which had suffered no change in over a hun¬ 
dred years. Mrs. Lynde, herself, was old-fashioned 
like her house. She believed in bringing up children 
strictly; in consequence Bess was a primmer, more 
sedate little body than she might have been in a more 
modern household. 

As the girls passed this last-mentioned house an old 
colored woman in purple calico came out of the kitchen. 


THE BIRD’S NEST 15 

“ Miss Bess,” she said, “ yo grandma inquirin’ whar is 
yuh gwine.” 

“ Down by the branch, Aunt Darky.” 

“ She say is yuh got yo hat an’ yo rubbers ? ” 

“ I have my hat; I don’t need the rubbers.” 

“ Yas’m yuh does. Yo grandma say yuh bleedged 
to w’ar ’em ef yuh gwine in any swampy place.” 

“Just wait a minute, girls,” said Bess resignedly. 
“I shall have to put on those hateful rubbers or 
grandma will scold. Just get them for me, there’s 
a good mammy,” she called back to the woman. 

“ Come to de do’-step an’ I fotch ’em to yuh, honey,” 
came the answer. 

Bess ran back and in a few minutes was ready to re¬ 
join her friends. 

“ My, I wouldn’t dare to ask Norah to wait on me,” 
remarked Betsy. “ Aunt Darky certainly is obliging.” 

“Of course,” returned Bess with a little air of 
superiority, “ but it is quite different when you have 
an old family servant. Mammy nursed my mother.” 

The girls always called the old colored woman Aunt 
Darky, this being their contraction of Dorcas. Mammy 
herself never questioned but that it was entirely proper. 
“ I is a darky,” she explained to Mrs. Ferguson, “ an’ 
it don’t mek no diff’unce what de lil gals call me no¬ 
how.” 


16 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Once out of sight Bess was ready to run and climb 
with the others, though she did it more clumsily. 
They had to get over a fence, walk through a piece of 
woods and across a meadow, before they came to the 
branch, or creek, which ran along at the back of the 
Lynde property. Here Bess took the lead and after a 
while parted the boughs of a dogwood tree to disclose 
a nest in which were four lovely blue eggs. 

The three stood on tiptoe and looked in. “ Aren’t 
they dear ? ” whispered Betsy. “ They are robins’ 
eggs. I always wanted one to keep because of the 
beautiful color.” 

“ Do you think we dare take them ? ” said Elizabeth. 
“ There are four.” 

“ They seem quite cold,” announced Bess, who, by 
right of discovery, felt that she could touch the eggs. 

“We might leave one for a nest egg,” suggested 
Betsy. “ They always do that with a hen’s nest, you 
know.” 

After some further talk they concluded to do this 
and were carefully bearing away their treasures when 
suddenly, crashing through the bushes, came a man. 
“ Hallo,” he cried, “ what are you doing ? Robbing 
birds’ nests as I live. I thought it was only bad boys 
who did that.” 


“ O Uncle Robert! ” 


THE BIED’S NEST 


17 


“O Mr. Tyson,” came the chorus of protesting 
voices. “We aren’t robbing.” 

“ The eggs are quite cold,” ventured Betsy. 

“The mother bird has deserted them,” Elizabeth 
declared. ^ 

Mr. Tyson frowned. “ How do you know ? ” 

“ Why, why—I felt the eggs,” Bess told him. 

“ That was a pretty thing to do. No wonder the 
mother bird deserted them. Are you quite sure she did ? ” 

“ I have been to see the nest two or three times and 
she was never there,” explained Bess. 

“ That might have been, too ; she might have gone 
off for a short time only, being frightened by your 
coming near, or she might not have been ready to sit.” 

“ But I waited ever and ever so long and she didn’t 
come,” Bess said. 

“ How many eggs were there in the nest ? ” 

“ Four,” Bess told him. 

“ There are generally five. I think you’d better put 
those back and give Mrs. Bobin the benefit of the 
doubt,” Mr. Tyson advised as he went on up-stream. 

The girls stood looking rather abashed. “ I s’pose 
we’d really better,” said Bess in a small voice as she 
turned toward the dogwood, Betsy and Elizabeth fol¬ 
lowing. Bess deposited her treasure carefully by the 
side of the one lone egg ; Betsy did the same, but just 


18 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


as Elizabeth was about to place hers by the side of the 
others her foot slipped, and down crashed the egg, its 
frail shell breaking into bits. 

u O dear,” sighed Elizabeth aghast. “Now there 
will be only three. Do you suppose the bird will know 
if she ever comes back ? ” 

“ She may think a squirrel or a snake has taken it,” 
said Betsy consolingly; “ they do that, you know.” 

“ Yes, they do,” agreed Bess. “ I have driven a bad 
little red squirrel away from our big elm tree lots of 
times. Maybe the robin will put the blame on the 
squirrels and will lay some more eggs.” 

“ Oh, I do hope she will,” said Elizabeth earnestly. 
“We must come back and see.” 

They agreed upon this and were about to return 
when Elizabeth said: “ Don’t let’s go back yet; it is 
so lovely down here. See that branch hanging over 
the water ? I’m going to climb out on it.” 

“You’d better not,” warned Bess; “you’d fall in, 
very likely.” 

“Fall, grandmother!” cried Elizabeth. “As if I 
couldn’t climb any better than that. Why, I’ve been 
to the top of our highest cherry tree to get the top 
cherry. I beat Bert doing it.” 

“ O dear, I couldn’t do that,” declared Bess. “ Could 
you, Betsy ? ” 


THE BIRD’S NEST 


19 


“ I don’t know. I’d like to try,” confessed Betsy. 

“ Come on,” cried Elizabeth making for the fallen 
tree. “ I dare you, Betsy ! I dare you, Bess ! ” 

Bess held back in spite of Betsy’s declaration that she 
wouldn’t take a dare, and she held her breath while 
her two companions made their way out upon the 
slippery log. She did not venture even when they be¬ 
gan to jeer her by singing out: 

u ’Fraid cat, ’fraid cat, 

’Fraid to come where we’re at.” 

Not strictly correct verse, but it gave them great joy as 
they sang it over and over, swinging their feet above 
the stream. 

“ I’d rather be a cat than a goose,” Bess was retort¬ 
ing when there sounded an ominous crack, and, before 
her friends could scramble to safety, the rotten log 
gave way and down they went into the water, which, 
fortunately, was not very deep just there. 

Elizabeth was equal to the occasion. “ Quack! 
Quack! ” she cried. “ We’re ducks, not geese,” and 
clapping her dripping arms she strode through the shal¬ 
low water and scrambled up on the bank. 

Betty, being shorter, was even wetter. “Ugh!” 
she exclaimed, “ it’s awfully cold.” 


20 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Elizabeth began to dance up and down. “Keep 
moving, keep moving,” she advised. “ Bun, Betsy. 
I’ll give you from here to that stone, and I’ll bet I’ll 
get home first.” 

With their streaming garments flopping around them 
they set out up the hill. True to her threat Elizabeth 
was there first, passing Betsy three-quarters of the way 
up. Bess, though less encumbered, plodded slowly 
along, arriving neat, unflushed and composed; she 
viewed her panting comrades with a little scorn. 
“ You’d better come to my house and get dry,” she 
said. 

“ No, siree, we wouldn’t have your grandmother see 
us for the world, would we, Betsy ? ” cried Elizabeth. 
“ No, thank you, Bess, we will go around the back way 
to our house. ’Lectra will let us in by the kitchen fire. 
Come on, Bets.” 

Betsy, only too glad to escape a probable scolding 
from her aunt, was glad to agree to this, and, leaving 
Bess to turn in at the back gate of her own garden, 
they cut across lots and over fences to where the old 
brown house stood embowered in lilacs and apple blos¬ 
soms. 

The water was still oozing from their shoes and drip¬ 
ping from their skirts when they reached the kitchen, 
open to the sunlight and warm from a freshly made 


THE BIRD’S NEST 


21 


wood-fire. Electra, enveloped in a huge blue gingham 
apron, was standing before the table making biscuits 
for supper. She looked up as the children came in. 
“ For the land’s sakes, you ’Lizbeth Hollins, what have 
you been up to now ? ” she exclaimed. 

“We were just sitting out on a nice big limb, down 
by the creek,” explained Elizabeth in an aggrieved 
tone, “ and what did the mean old thing do but break, 
so we tumbled in ; that’s all. It wasn’t very deep and 
we could easily wade ashore. We ran all the way 
home, and I reckon we won’t take cold, ’Lectra.” 

“ All the same you’d better have some ginger tea. 
I’ll make you some right away. Here, Betsy Tyson, 
take off them Wet shoes and stockings. Here, set right 
down in front of the fire and toast your toes while I 
get something for you to put on.” 

“ Don’t tell mother nor Kath,” said Elizabeth, “ and 
most of all don’t tell the boys.” 

“ Leave that to me,” returned Electra; “ I’ll do as I 
see fit. You’re the worst tomboy in town, ’Lizbeth, 
and you deserve a good settin’ down. I bet it was all 
your doings that got Betsy out on a rotten log. It’ll 
be a mercy if she don’t get her death. She’s as wet as 
a drownded rat. Here, drink this, the two of you.” 
She held out a glass of hot stuff to each of the girls and 
then proceeded to strip Betsy’s watery garments from 


22 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


her, wrap her in a flannel dressing gown, and encase 
her feet in a pair of worsted slippers, much too large 
for her. Attention was next given to Elizabeth. 

“ I declare you’re worse than Babs,” Electra kept up 
her comments, “ coming home like this and me gettin’ 
supper. It’ll be late and then what ? ” 

“ I’ll help you; I will indeed,” promised Elizabeth, 
all the time feeling sure that Electra would keep this 
misadventure a secret as she had done many another. 
Electra was young enough to remember her own es¬ 
capades, of which there had been not a few, and her 
fellow feeling made her wondrous kind to Elizabeth 
upon all such occasions. 

“ I’ll set the table and skim the milk, and I could cut 
out the biscuits, too,” Elizabeth went on. “ Betsy, 
you’ll have to stay to supper.” 

“ Oh, but not in this,” she held up a corner of the 
brilliant red-and-white wrapper, “ and my own clothes 
won’t be dry in time.” 

Electra already had the irons on. “Don’t you 
worry about that,” she said. “ I’ll get these here duds 
dried out a bit, and then I’ll run ’em over with the 
iron. It’s a mercy I began supper early. Your parents 
has gone over to Medway and they won’t be back so 
tearin’ early, you may thank your stars for that.” 

She turned to Elizabeth who did thank her stars 


THE BIRD’S NEST 23 

and inquired: “Did they take Babs, and where is 
Hath ? ” 

“ Yes, they took Babs, and Miss Kath is around some- 
wheres, playin’ tennis with the Paine girls, I shouldn’t 
wonder ; I heard they had their court ready.” 

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. It was a lucky 
day for her in spite of the drenching. She appreciated 
Electra’s protection and was fain to include Betsy in 
her fair fortunes. As soon as she had changed her wet 
clothes she went to the ’phone to call up Miss Emily 
Tyson. But here she met a rebuff. “ Stay to supper ? 
No, indeed,” came the response. “ Robert says she’s 
been robbing birds’ nests and home she must come be¬ 
fore she gets into any more mischief. She ought to 
have punishment rather than reward.” 

“ O dear,” sighed Elizabeth, brave from not having 
to discuss the matter face to face with Miss Emily, “ it 
wasn’t her fault, Miss Emily, and besides we really 
thought the bird had left the eggs; Bess said so.” 

“ Never mind what Bess thought or said ; the fact re¬ 
mains, and Betsy must come straight home.” 

“ You can’t stay,” announced Elizabeth to her friend 
as she returned soberly to the kitchen. “She says 
you’ve got to come straight home.” 

Electra’s iron was speeding over the damp skirts. 
“You can’t put on them wet shoes,” she declared. 


24 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ Elizabeth can lend you dry stockings, but her shoes 
will be too big for you.” 

“ Besides, Aunt Em would notice,” declared Betsy, 
subdued enough. “ I’ll have to say I got them wet.” 

“ Well, might as soon be killed for a sheep as a lamb, 
I suppose,” remarked Electra. “ Your clothes will be 
pretty dry and your shoes partially so; I guess maybe 
that will have to do.” She helped Betsy on with the 
newly ironed garments and, with Elizabeth, saw her go 
off regretfully. 

“ I rather guess Miss Tyson’s kind of hard on her 
sometimes,” Electra remarked as she returned to her 
biscuits. 

“ She isn’t always,” returned Elizabeth, “ and she 
isn’t so particular as Mrs. Lynde, but then Bess doesn’t 
get into scrapes very often.” 

“ Bess is kind.of slow; I’ve noticed that myself,” said 
Electra bringing down the rolling-pin upon the mass of 
dough before her. “ I like a girl with some ginger in 
her, I must say.” 

Elizabeth laughed. “ Well, you saw to it that Betsy 
had some ginger in her this time. That tea was awfully 
hot with it, ’Lectra.” 

“ Never mind, it done her good and you, too. Got 
everything dry on you ? All right. Then you can set 
the table if you want to ; I’m not going to blab.” 


THE BIRD’S NEST 


25 


Elizabeth thanked her stars a second time and gave 
Electra a hearty hug. “ You’re an angel,” she de¬ 
clared. 

Electra sniffed. “ I’ve seen lots of pictures of angels 
and I ain’t seen one yet with a snub nose and mouse- 
colored, wispy hair.” 

Elizabeth laughed and went off wondering if Miss 
Emily would be so very cross to Betsy and if Mr. 
Robert would go around telling that his niece and her 
friends were robbing birds’ nests. He would be pretty 
mean if he did, she told herself. Then she heard her 
sister Katharine’s voice on the porch, and after that the 
boys came clamoring in, so there was no more thought 
of Betsy for a time. 


CHAPTER II 

LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU ? 


E LIZABETH felt somewhat ashamed when she 
thought of the dousing of which she had been the 
cause, and especially did she feel uncomfortable when 
she thought of Betsy. The first thing the next morn¬ 
ing, which was Saturday, she determined to hunt up 
Bess that she might ask her to go to the brick house to 
find out how Betsy fared. 

Bess was sitting on the front porch with her grand¬ 
mother. Both were decorously knitting, a large and 
sleepy gray cat on a chair between them. Elizabeth 
did not go in, but, pausing at the gate, beckoned to Bess. 
She saw her friend carefully put her knitting into a 
small silk bag and hang it upon the back of her chair, 
then she walked sedately down the gravel walk toward 
where Elizabeth was waiting. “ She certainly is a slow 
sort of girl,” thought Elizabeth. “ I never in the world 
could be so painstaking and deliberate,” which was per¬ 
fectly true. 

“ Have you seen anything of Betsy this morning ? ” 
Bess asked the first thing. 

26 


LITTLE BKOWN BETTY, WHEBE AET THOU? 27 

“ Ho. Have you ? ” 

“ Hot a sign.” 

“ O dear,” sighed Elizabeth. 

“ Why, what’s the matter ? ” inquired Bess. 

“Hothing, except that her aunt wouldn’t let her 
stay to supper at our house, and I am afraid Miss 
Emily is cross. It was all my fault that she got 
wet.” 

“ Yes,” returned Bess doubtfully ; “ only she didn’t 
have to go out on the log if she didn’t want to.” 

“ I know that, but I dared her, so it was really my 
fault.” 

“ She didn’t have to,” repeated Bess. “ I didn’t go.” 

“ Of course ; you wouldn’t, you know; you never do 
such things.” 

Bess assumed a virtuous expression. “I’m not a 
tomboy,” she said with dignity. “ Grandma doesn’t 
think it is ladylike to go climbing around that way.” 

“Pooh! I don’t care,” responded Elizabeth. “So 
long as my mother doesn’t mind my climbing I mean 
to do it. Your grandmother is too old-fashioned for 
anything.” 

Bess resented this remark by bridling and blinking 
her eyes with an injured air, but as she had no retort 
ready she turned to go back to the house. 

“ Don’t go,” cried Elizabeth. “It is too lovely a day 


28 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

to spend sitting on the porch. Come with me and let’s 
find out about Betsy.” 

Bess’s curiosity got the better of her injured feelings 
and she answered: “All right, but I’ll have to tell 
grandma that I’m going.” 

“Very well. I’ll wait here,” promised Elizabeth. 
She busied herself in looking for four-leaved clovers 
until Bess returned with her hat set properly upon her 
smooth locks and her coat neatly buttoned. Elizabeth 
wore no sign of a hat, but had on a red jersey, rather 
the worse for wear and not buttoned up at all, chiefly 
because most of the buttons were gone. 

The two set off toward the brick house. “ Do you 
dare go in ? ” asked Bess. 

“ Why, yes, I think so,” returned Elizabeth bravely. 
“ Maybe Betsy will be in the garden, or maybe Hal 
will be, or Dan, the gardener. We can ask any one 
for Betsy if she isn’t there herself, although I hope it 
will be any one else but Miss Emily.” 

But when they reached the house the only signs of 
life were seen in the birds flitting about the trees, and 
the horses grazing in the pasture lot. The garden, to 
be sure, showed spring flowers all abloom with butter¬ 
flies hovering over them. 

“ Shall we go in ? ” queried Elizabeth, her courage 
oozing out as she approached possibilities. “ You 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART TIIOU f 29 

might go, Bess,” she added. “ Yon had nothing to do 
with getting Betsy into trouble.” 

“ Oh, but I don’t like to go alone,” said Bess shrink¬ 
ing back. “ Maybe Miss Emily doesn’t know, and will 
think because I was with you that I was just as bad.” 

Elizabeth overlooked this reflection upon her char¬ 
acter and exclaimed: “ I see Dan,” for just then a man 
in his shirt sleeves arose from stooping over a distant 
flower bed. “ Let’s go in by the gate ; we don’t have 
to go to the front door.” She lifted the latch and 
walked down the box-bordered walk, giving a fre¬ 
quent eye to the side porch and the upper windows. 
“ Halloo! ” she said as she came up to Dan. 

“ Halloo! ” he responded. 

“ Do you know where Betsy is ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Can’t say that I do.” Dan gathered up an armful 
of weeds and flung them into the wheelbarrow. “ I 
niver set me two eyeballs on her the day.” 

“ Oh ! ” The two girls exchanged glances. Then 
it was evident that Betsy was kept closely indoors. 

“ You might ast Norah if she is annywheres about,” 
said Dan, again stooping to his weeds. “ She’ll not be 
far, I’m thinkin’.” 

The two girls went slowly around to the kitchen 
porch, but, catching a glimpse of Miss Emily inside, 
they hovered around out of sight until Nor ah should 


30 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


come out. This she did pretty soon. Elizabeth took 
courage to go up to her. “ Could you tell Betsy we 
want to see her ? ” she said. 

“Oi could not,” returned Norah. “You’ll not be 
seem’ her to-day nor to-morrow ayther, I’m thinkin” 
and there’ll be no use your callin’, for she’s where she’ll 
not hear.” 

The girls did not see the twinkle in Norah’s eye, for 
her back was toward them. They stood in silence 
watching her reenter the house. Then Bess spoke. 
“It’s worse than we thought,” she said in an awe¬ 
stricken voice. “ Let’s go.” 

Elizabeth agreed, and they hurried out the gate, 
not stopping until they were some distance away. 

“ Do you suppose that Miss Emily ordered Norah to 
tell us that we couldn’t come there any more ? ” said 
Elizabeth after a while. “ That would be awful; such 
a disgrace.” 

“ Awful,” echoed Bess. “ Just as much as to say we 
aren’t good enough for her to associate with. I’m sure 
I am much better behaved than Betsy Tyson; my 
grandmother says I am. Where do you suppose she is, 
Elizabeth ? ” 

“ I don’t dare to suppose. Maybe she is shut up in 
some dark place and they are feeding her on bread and 
water like a prisoner. You know Norah said there 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU! 31 


would be no use in our calling, for she was where she 
couldn’t hear.” 

“ It must be in some room away on the other side of 
the house.” 

“ It is an old house, but I don’t believe there is a 
dungeon under it; I never heard that there was, 
though there might be.” Elizabeth’s imagination was 
at work. 

“ O Elizabeth, of course there isn’t one. People 
don’t have dungeons nowadays.” 

“ They do so; my uncle saw one in Europe.” 

“ Well, maybe in Europe, but not here.” 

Elizabeth did not contradict this. “ Norah said we 
wouldn’t see her for some time. I think it is very, 
very cruel to keep her shut up for such a little thing as 
that. I’m afraid she will be very pale and wan when 
she comes out. No matter what I did my mother 
would not be so cruel.” 

“ But then she’s your mother,” Bess offered as 
explanation. 

“ Of course, and Miss Emily is only an aunt.” 

“ A great-aunt,” corrected Bess. 

“ A witch aunt I should call her,” declared Elizabeth. 
Then they both laughed, which was some relief to their 
feelings. 

“ Do you suppose she will stay away from Sunday- 


32 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

school to-morrow and from school Monday ? ” said Bess 
after a while. 

“ She wouldn’t do that. I don’t believe they would 
be so mean as to keep her from getting an education,” 
returned Elizabeth. 

“ No, I don’t suppose they would,” agreed Bess. 
“O Elizabeth, maybe they have sent her away to 
boarding-school, and that is what Nor ah meant.” 

“I do believe that is just it. Wouldn’t that be 
horrid? I remember now that Mr. Tyson did say 
something about it one day at our house, but Hal 
begged him to let Betsy stay at home till he should go 
away to college. Hal is perfectly devoted to Betsy.” 

“ Then he would fuss like anything if they were so 
mean as to send her away. He doesn’t mind speaking 
right up to Miss Emily and his uncle.” 

“Very likely he isn’t at home to-day. He often 
goes off to spend the week-end with the Selden boys.” 

“ Dear me,” sighed Bess, “ I am beginning to miss 
Betsy awfully.” 

u Come up to my house,” urged Elizabeth. “’Lectra 
always bakes turnovers on Saturdays, and she’ll give 
us each one, I know.” 

This was too great a temptation for Bess to with¬ 
stand, so the two went on up street to the old brown 
house. As they came around by the back way pleasant 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU? 33 

odors of cooking reached them. Elizabeth sniffed the 
air. “ I smell them now ; they must be about done,” 
she said. 

“ What kind will they be ? ” inquired Bess, who had 
her own preferences and was very fond of the good 
things of this life. 

“Let me see,” said Elizabeth reminiscently. “We 
had apple last week and mince the week before; I 
think these must be peach; they have a peachy smell.” 

“ Goody ! ” cried Bess. “ I adore peach.” 

Electra was just taking a pan of turnovers from the 
oven as they entered the kitchen. “Just in time,” 
cried Elizabeth. 

“ You go ’long,” said Electra. “ I declare you’ve got 
the nose of a hound dog, ’Lizbeth Hollins.” 

“Are they peach?” inquired Elizabeth paying no 
attention to this reference to her nose. 

“ Yes, they are, but they’re piping hot; you couldn’t 
touch one.” 

“ They’ll soon get cool. Give us two on a saucer, 
’Lectra,” begged Elizabeth, “ and we’ll take them down 
in the orchard. They’ll soon get cool in the open air. 
My! but they look good. I love the little key edge 
better than the slits, or the crimps.” 

“ I always use the key for peach and the crimps for 
apple,” remarked Electra deftly slipping two of the 


34 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

turnovers on to a saucer. “ Mind you let ’em get good 
and cool,” she cautioned as Elizabeth took up the 
saucer. 

“ If Babs comes around don’t tell her where we are; 
we have some very important business to talk about,” 
said Elizabeth. 

“ Important! ” sniffed Electra. “ What can kids like 
you have important ? ” 

“You’d think so if you knew,” returned Elizabeth 
mysteriously as she went out the door. “ I’ve a plan,” 
she whispered to Bess as they turned toward the 
orchard. “ It came to me all of a sudden. When we 
get to the place I will tell you.” 

They traveled on across the lawn, around the wood¬ 
shed to the orchard, pink with blossoms and full of the 
songs of birds. A huge flat stone under a low-boughed 
tree was Elizabeth’s favorite seat, and here the two 
made themselves comfortable. Elizabeth brushed off a 
corner of the stone with a wisp of grass. “ There,” 
she exclaimed, “ if we lay the turnovers on that they 
will cool soon.” She placed the turnovers carefully on 
the stone, then hugging her knees and weaving back 
and forth she began in a singsong voice: “I know 
something that you don’t know.” 

“I think you’re real mean,” pouted Bess. “You 
might tell me.” 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU f 35 

“ I will after a while.” 

“ When ? ” 

“ As soon as we have eaten the turnovers,” promised 
Elizabeth with a mischievous desire to prolong Bess’s 
suspense. 

“ Then I’m going to eat mine right away whether it 
is cool or not,” declared Bess, and suiting the action to 
the word she grabbed the little pie and set her teeth 
in its crusty edge. “It’s plenty cool enough,” she 
managed to say between bites. 

“ But I like mine very cool,” returned Elizabeth, 
with a desire to continue her teasing, and making no 
motion to pick up her turnover. 

Bess immediately laid down hers. “ I think you’re 
real mean,” she repeated. “ I think you might begin 
on yours. The edge is as cool as anything and while 
you are eating that off it gives the rest a chance to 
cool.” 

“But it makes it so squashy,” objected Elizabeth, 
“ and the juice all runs out. I like to begin at one 
point and finish at the other. Bess, if you were a 
bird, which tree would you build a nest in ? ” 

“I don’t know,” Bess reflected. She was not an 
imaginative young person, and when Elizabeth popped 
such questions at her she was generally at a loss. 
“ Which would you ? ” she temporized. 


36 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AHD BESS 

“ I think I’d build ’way up in an oak tree where the 
squirrels and things couldn’t get at my nest.” 

“ An owl might,” Bess reminded her. 

“ Hot if I built on a little teeny-weeny branch that 
was too slender to bear his weight. I’d like to be an 
oriole, I think ; they are such pretty things and I like 
their song. If I were a bird, do you know what I 
would do ? ” 

“What?” 

“ I’d fly to Betsy’s house, and if the windows were 
open I’d go in and find out where she is. If they 
weren’t open, I’d sit on the sill and peep in ; she might 
see me and come to the window, then I’d fly back and 
change myself into a human being again.” 

“ You didn’t say a fairy, you said just plain bird,” 
said Bess, bewildered by these sudden flights of fancy. 

“ Well, never mind. If I could change myself into 
a bird of course I could change back again. I couldn’t 
be a bird at all unless I were a fairy; you might have 
known that; Betsy would know in a minute.” 

“ I s’pose so,” responded Bess meekly, quite aware 
that she was left standing on earth many times when 
Elizabeth and Betsy flew off on the wings of their 
imaginations. 

“ I think I’ll eat my turnover now,” suddenly an¬ 
nounced Elizabeth; “ it must be quite cool by this 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU! 37 

time.” However, she made very deliberate work of 
it so that Bess had finished hers long before the last 
bit of crust disappeared into Elizabeth’s mouth. 

Bess watched her eagerly. “ Now,” she exclaimed 
in a satisfied tone. 

“Now, what?” asked Elizabeth with an innocent 
air. 

“ Why, Elizabeth Hollins, you know you promised 
to tell me your plan as soon as we had eaten our turn¬ 
overs.” 

“ Oh, yes. Well, then, I’m going to see Mr. Tyson.” 

“ O Elizabeth, what for ? ” 

“ Why, to find out about Betsy. He is a lawyer, 
and when things are stolen people go to lawyers, so 
he’ll have to tell.” 

“ But,” Bess looked amazed, “ what is stolen ? ” 

“Why, Betsy, of course, you goose. She is our 
friend, and she has been stolen from us. I am going 
to tell him that he must find her and restore her to 
our sorrowing hearts. Do you want to go with me ? ” 

“ I ? Oh—why, Elizabeth—I’d be scared to.” 

“ He won’t hurt you, and he couldn’t put you in jail 
when you go to him on business.” 

“ No, I don’t suppose that, but he could speak sharply 
and say something horrid.” 

“Let him. I don’t care. You needn’t listen if he 


38 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


says anything horrid; just shut your ears and think of 
something else; that is the way I do when Kathie 
scolds me.” 

“ When are you going ? ” 

“ This afternoon. I am going to dress in my best.” 

“ Will your mother let you ? ” 

“ Of course, when I tell her I have a very important 
business engagement with Mr. Tyson.” 

“ She will ask what the business is.” 

“ No, she won’t, at least not at first. She may some 
night when I am in bed; that is always the time she 
digs down for things. Somehow you can’t help tell¬ 
ing then, for you think, ‘Suppose I die before I 
wake.’ ” 

“ O Elizabeth, how dreadful! I never think that.” 

“Don’t you? I do. Why, even if you only say 
‘ Now I lay me,’ it makes you think of it.” 

“ But I don’t say 4 Now I lay me ’; I’m too big. I 
say other prayers.” 

“ Maybe you don’t say it, and I don’t always, but 
Babs does. She says it out loud so I can’t help think¬ 
ing. Anyway when the lights are out and you lie very 
still in the dark you think all sorts of things, then after 
a while your mother comes up to kiss you good-night, 
and then you are ready to tell her all the little mean 
things you have done during the day, especially when 


LITTLE BROWN BETTY, WHERE ART THOU! 39 

she says, 4 Well, dearie, has this been a good or a bad 
day?’” 

“ My mother doesn’t say that.” 

44 Hot ever ? ” 

44 Ho; she kisses me and tucks me up, then she 
says: 4 Good-night, and pleasant dreams.’ Sometimes 
grandma asks if I have been a good child, but she 
doesn’t come up. I kiss her good-night down-stairs.” 

44 Oh, then it is quite different,” agreed Elizabeth. 
44 Well, anyhow, I am going to see Mr. Tyson at his 
office, whether you do or not. I’ll stop at your gate, 
and if you are ready you can be watching for me. If 
you can’t go, just hang a red cloth out your window so 
I’ll know.” 

Elizabeth was fond of signals, secret notes, and caba¬ 
listic signs. She and Betsy had a code of their own 
which they sometimes used, to the confusion of Bess 
who could not master its intricacies. 

The turnovers consumed and the plan disclosed, the 
excitement of the morning was over, and Bess was ready 
to take her departure in spite of Elizabeth’s persuasions. 
44 Ho, I really have to go,” declared Bess. 44 Mother 
said I must come back soon so Miss Cutter could fit my 
new summer frocks.” 

These new frocks were a matter of such deep inter¬ 
est to Bess that Elizabeth knew her coaxings would be 


40 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

of no account by the side of them, so she saw her friend 
depart and then set about amusing herself as best she 
could. 

She was too active a person to sit still very long, and, 
after watching the orioles for a few moments, she de¬ 
cided to start off on an exploring expedition. This was 
something that she and Betsy dearly loved to do, and 
now she missed this congenial friend. Wherever Eliza¬ 
beth led, Betsy was ready to follow. Bess might go if 
the path were good, the way not too long, and the sun 
not too hot, but Betsy cared nothing about such matters 
so long as Elizabeth disregarded them, and many a rare 
scramble they had. 

On their last expedition they had gone as far as a 
piece of woods lying some distance back of the Hollins 
farm and had finally come out upon a high bluff from 
which they could look down upon the river. They 
meant to take a lower path another day in order to ex¬ 
plore the rocky hillside they had seen. To-day Eliza¬ 
beth decided to go alone to the spot. It would be great 
to report her discoveries to Betsy when she should see 
her again, so she set out cheerfully to make her investi¬ 
gations. 


CHAPTER m 


THE CAVE 


HE lower way led around by the little stream on 



X whose borders the girls had found the bird’s nest. 
Through thickets and brambles Elizabeth, nothing 
daunted, scrambled, sometimes nearly falling into a 
bog, again scratching her hands on the thorny growths 
flung across her path. At last she reached the foot of 
the bluff, and here the path was more distinct, thread¬ 
ing in and out between huge bowlders and scrubby 
underbrush. Elizabeth pressed on until suddenly she 
stopped short within view of a dark opening in the mass 
of rock ahead. “ A cave! ” she cried. “ How perfectly 
delightful. We never dreamed of such a find. I 
wonder how big it is.” 

She climbed up the bank and peered into the cave. 
At first her eyes, unused to the dim light, could per¬ 
ceive very little, but presently she could see that the 
cave was of considerable size. She took a step inside. 
The roof was much higher than her head, the floor was 
hard and the sides of jagged rock enclosed a place the 
size of a large room. “ What will Bets say ? ” cried 
Elizabeth delightedly. “ It is the very finest place we 


41 


42 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


ever found. We can bring things here and furnish it. 
I don’t see why we never found it before.” 

She was now able to see more distinctly and dis¬ 
covered a large pile of leaves in one corner of the cave, 
a heap of stones and a flat place, near the opening, 
which looked as if a fire had one time been kindled 
there. 

As Elizabeth stood still looking around, another plan 
took form in her mind. It was such a thrilling one that 
she did not tarry long in the cave, but hurried back to 
her home that she might sooner settle affairs as she 
desired. She told no one what she intended to do, but 
after dinner went to her room to array herself in her 
best. No one was at hand to prevent her, for her 
mother was out and Kathie was on the porch talking to 
a group of her girl friends. Even Babs was busy with 
her dolls under the big cherry tree in the back yard, so 
Elizabeth was not called to account as she marched 
forth, clad in her best white frock and wearing her new 
daisy-wreathed hat. She walked down the village 
street, stopping for a moment to see if there were any 
signs of Bess, but she was not in sight and from her 
window waved a length of red ribbon, so Elizabeth con¬ 
cluded that she would not have Bess’s company that 
afternoon. “ I might have known she wouldn’t go,” 
she told herself, but the fact of having no one to ao 


THE CAVE 


43 


company her did not lessen her intention to visit Mr. 
Tyson’s office, which she presently reached. 

She paused long enough to read the neat little sign 
on which was printed “ Kobert E. Tyson, Attorney-at- 
Law,” then she knocked at the door. A voice said : 
“ Come in.” Elizabeth entered, feeling rather shaky 
about the knees, but keeping up a brave front. Mr. 
Tyson was bending over some papers on his desk. 
Elizabeth stood in silence till he should turn around. 
Presently he did so, and looked surprised at seeing who 
this visitor was. 

“ Well, Elizabeth,” he said, “ have you a message for 
me ? ” 

“ Not exactly,” replied she, “ but I have some busi¬ 
ness I want to attend to.” 

“ Oh, you have ? ” Mr. Tyson looked still more sur¬ 
prised. “ What is it ? Sit down, won’t you ? ” He 
drew up a chair in which Elizabeth seated herself 
sedately, spreading out her skirts and crossing the toes 
of her tan shoes while she contemplated the floor. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Tyson encouragingly after giving 
her time to speak. 

Elizabeth did not know exactly how to begin but, feel¬ 
ing that she must say something, made the inquiry: 
“ Aren’t you a lawyer ? ” 

“ Not very much of a one yet, though I hope to alter 


44 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

that if you will give me time,” he responded with a 
smile. 

“ Well, you do help people find things that are lost, 
don’t you ? I mean things that are stolen ? ” 

“Why, sometimes. What has been stolen from 
you? Your pet kitten?” 

“Ho.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Something 
much more important,” she said solemnly; “ a friend.” 

Mr. Tyson put his hand over his mouth and gave a 
little cough. “ Friends are pretty scarce, I admit, and 
one can’t alford to have them stolen. Who is this 
friend ? What makes you think she has been stolen ? ” 

“Well, you see she isn’t to be found. We went to 
her house, Bess and I did, and we were told that there 
would be no use in our calling her for she was where 
she could not hear, and they wouldn’t tell where it 
was. We think that maybe she is shut up somewhere 
or perhaps has been sent away to boarding-school, be¬ 
cause, because- We weren’t really robbing birds’ 

nests, Mr. Tyson; we wouldn’t do such a cruel thing. 
We truly 7 truly thought the bird had deserted the nest, 
cross my heart we did.” 

Mr. Tyson coughed again. “ Do I understand that 
your case has something to do with Betsy ? ” he asked. 

Elizabeth nodded. “ She is my first best friend, and 
Bess is second.” 


THE CAVE 


45 


“And you think some one has stolen Betsy from 
you, is that it ? Who do you think has done this ? ” 

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. She was not 
quite sure how far implicated Mr. Tyson might be him¬ 
self, but she determined to lay the charge entirely upon 
his aunt. “ Miss Emily,” she said after stealing a look 
at the young man. 

Mr. Tyson shook his head. “Dear, dear,” he ex¬ 
claimed, “ this is pretty serious. Do you expect me to 
arrest my own aunt and charge her with robbery? 
You wouldn’t expect me to send her to jail, would 
you ? ” 

“I don’t know,” replied Elizabeth doubtfully. “I 
don’t know but that she has done just as bad to Betsy. 
You haven’t a dungeon in your house, have you, Mr. 
Tyson ? ” 

The young man put back his head and roared with 
laughter. “ What a notion ! ” he exclaimed as soon as 
he could find his voice. “ For imagination and inven¬ 
tion commend me to Miss Elizabeth Hollins. My dear 
child, we are not living in the dark ages, and my Aunt 
Emily is not a cruel sorceress or anything of that kind. 
You have been reading too many foolish fairy stories, 
I’m afraid. Betsy is all right. Now run along home 
and don’t bother over what Miss Emily is doing.” 

Elizabeth, feeling very small, arose with dignity. 


46 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

She had a dozen reproaches upon the tip of her tongue, 
but somehow she could not give expression to them, 
but at the door she paused and said wistfully : “ But 
Betsy hasn’t gone away for good, has she ? She hasn’t 
been sent to boarding-school, I hope.” 

“Well, no, not yet, although I don’t know but that 
it would be wise to send her.” Mr. Tyson turned back 
to his desk as if to dismiss the subject, and Elizabeth 
hastened home to nurse her injured feelings. 

She changed her dress without being observed and 
then ran out to her seat in the orchard to think it 
all over. She considered herself very badly treated; 
laughed at, and dismissed without any satisfaction at 
all. A man who would do that was capable of doing 
worse, she believed. It was quite plain that he ap¬ 
proved of whatever his aunt had done, and there was 
poor Betsy at their mercy. The more Elizabeth 
thought it over the more distressed did she become. 
There was one consolation, and that was Betsy had not 
yet been sent to boarding-school. “ She would loathe 
it,” Elizabeth said to herself. “ She has told me so 
dozens of times, and I believe they mean to send her. 
They shall not if I can help it. If they steal her away 
from me, I have a right to steal her away from them. 
Miss Emily isn’t her mother, and Mr. Tyson isn’t her 
father, so what right have they to her anyhow ? ’* In 


THE CAVE 


47 


Elizabeth’s mind none but parents had any claim upon 
children. 

She sat a long time turning over various schemes for 
Betsy’s escape from what she was pleased to call op¬ 
pression. At the end of an hour she had worked her¬ 
self into a frame of mind which caused her to consider 
Betsy in the light of a martyr, or rather as an im¬ 
prisoned lady for whom some doughty deed must be 
performed. It exactly suited Elizabeth’s fancy to 
devise some plot by which her friend could be snatched 
from her relatives and be turned into a heroine. By 
the end of the hour Miss Emily had become a harsh 
jailer, Mr. Tyson her obedient henchman, while Hal 
was the victim of their machinations. It may be that 
Elizabeth did not exactly believe all this, but she had 
sufficient faith in it to encourage herself to make a sort 
of play, and her dramatic instincts urged her to become 
chief performer. She was much excited over it, and 
lost sight of the fact that she missed Betsy in the pros¬ 
pect of a delightful and exciting performance, much 
more realistic than any book she had read. 

She stayed in the orchard till supper time and then 
returned to the house to find that her mother had gone 
to spend the afternoon and evening with a neighbor, 
and that Kathie had invited the Paine girls to have 
supper with her, so Elizabeth was left free to dream 


48 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

away the evening, cuddled in the big chair in the 
library. 

There was no Betsy at Sunday-school the next day, 
neither did she appear at school on Monday. Elizabeth 
felt that the climax had been reached. She discussed 
the subject long and ardently with Bess, although she 
did not divulge her plans to this over-timid comrade. 
She considered it safer to sound Bess upon the subject 
of knightly deeds. That Bess did not rise to the emer¬ 
gency is not surprising. She never cared to do out-of- 
the-way things, and was entirely satisfied to perform 
her little round of duties and to enjoy such small pleas¬ 
ures as came her way. If she knew her lessons reason¬ 
ably well, passed within the lowest marks at her 
examinations, and could be considered Elizabeth’s 
second-best friend she was content. Elizabeth was so 
popular a girl, initiated so many amusements, was such 
a bright pupil, that to stand second in her friendship 
was an honor not to be despised, and Bess appreciated 
her privileges. However, on this occasion she could 
not rise to Elizabeth’s requirements and wondered at 
the passionate way in which Elizabeth expressed her 
opinions of Betsy’s supposed troubles. 

“How do you know they abuse her?” she mildly 
questioned. “ Did Mr. Tyson say they were going to 
send her away to a very strict school ? ” 


THE CAYE 


49 


“He as good as said so,” replied Elizabeth, who 
thoroughly believed what she said. 

“ I am sorry for her then,” returned Bess. 

“ Are you sorry enough to try to prevent her going ? ” 
inquired Elizabeth trying to test the lengths to which 
Bess might be expected to go. 

“How could I prevent it?” asked Bess in a dis¬ 
tressed tone. “ I am only a little girl, and grown-up 
people wouldn’t listen to me.” 

“ I don’t see why not. Little girls can do a great 
deal. Look at Joan of Arc; she wasn’t much older 
than we are when she did such big things, and Eliza¬ 
beth Zane was only a schoolgirl when she ran out 
under fire of the Indians and brought in the keg of 
powder.” 

But these brilliant examples of female prowess did 
not excite the ambition of Bess to imitate them. “ No¬ 
body would listen to me,” she maintained. 

“ I didn’t say talk, I said do. 4 A man of words and 
not of deeds is like a garden full of weeds,’ and I sup¬ 
pose it is the same with a girl. Why, don’t you re¬ 
member the sermon yesterday was about that very 
thing ? ” 

“ I didn’t understand half of it,” confessed Bess. 

44 Well then,” said Elizabeth giving up her effort of 
firing Bess to ambitious acts, 44 if you won’t do 


50 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

anything yourself, perhaps you will lend me the 
pony.” 

Bess turned a puzzled countenance upon her friend. 
The pony was a staid and gentle creature of some 
twenty years of age. Even in her most coltish days it 
was difficult to imagine that she had ever kicked up 
her heels. She had belonged to Bess’s mother in her 
childhood and had descended by rights to Bess. Noth¬ 
ing safer nor more reliable could be imagined, and it is 
therefore not surprising that Bess should fail to associ¬ 
ate any wild and reckless performance with Elizabeth’s 
request for the loan of old Fan. “ Of course you can 
have her,” she said. “Just let me know when, and I 
will have her saddled for you. Call me up on the 
’phone a little while beforehand, and I will have her 
all ready.” 

Elizabeth expressed her thanks and the two parted 
at the gate of Bess’s home. Not long after Elizabeth 
was crouching down outside the fence surrounding the 
Tyson garden and was peeping between the palings, 
out of sight by reason of a thick growth of bushes 
both inside and out. Just as she was beginning to 
weary of her long waiting and watching she spied 
Betsy herself coming down the garden walk. Eliza¬ 
beth had chosen well, for just beyond the clump of 
bushes was the little garden bed which Betsy called 


THE CAVE 


51 


her own. When Betsy was in the direct line of her 
vision Elizabeth called softly: “ Betsy, Betsy, come to 
the fence.” 

Betsy obeyed. “ O Elizabeth,” she said, “ I am so 
glad to see you.” 

Elizabeth raised her head to the level of the fence. 
“ Do you want to be rescued ? ” she asked in a hollow 
whisper. 

One of the satisfactory things about Betsy was that 
she always fell into Elizabeth’s plans without a ques¬ 
tion, and now, scenting some specially inviting play, 
she answered just as she knew Elizabeth would have 
her: “ Yes, but not a word or they may discover.” 

“ Hist! ” whispered Elizabeth. “ Be on your guard. 
I will secrete a note of instructions under a stone by 
the fifth post; it shall be in our code that none may 
discover our plans. Be vigilant. I must away.” And 
skulking like an Indian along the line of fence, she was 
soon out of sight, leaving Betsy in a state of pleasant 
excitement. 

Before very long, however, Elizabeth was back 
again. Betsy, bending over her garden, saw a hand 
thrust through the fence. Going nearer she saw Eliza¬ 
beth crouching outside. “Are you coming to school 
to-morrow ? ” came the question. 

“ No,” was the answer. 


52 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ Then it is all too true,” Elizabeth exclaimed trag¬ 
ically. “ The worst will befall you, but it shall not be. 
I will to the rescue. Within an hour look for my note 
under the stone by the fifth post.” 

Again she was off and Betsy, hugely enjoying the 
situation, continued the work in her garden for a 
while and later on returned to look for the note. 
There it was written in the queer cipher which Eliza¬ 
beth had originated. Betsy was very familiar with it 
and could easily read the lines which said : “ Be ready 
at the trysting place to-morrow at four o’clock. The 
utmost secrecy is necessary. I will avenge your per¬ 
secutions.” The name signed was Ivra, this being the 
one Elizabeth adopted in such correspondence. Betsy 
was known as Yera, and Bess was always referred to 
as Sula. Of course it was Elizabeth who had selected 
these names. 

The next day Bess sought Elizabeth at recess. “ I 
have something important to tell you,” she whispered 
drawing her to one side. 

Elizabeth was ready to hear. “What is it?” she 
whispered back. 

“ Betsy has been seen,” Bess told her. “ Flo Harris 
says she was in the garden last evening.” 

Elizabeth nodded wisely. “ I know, I know,” she 
said. 


THE CAVE 


53 


“And,” Bess went on, “Flo says she really does 
think they are going to send her away, for she heard 
her mother talking to Miss Emily and they were dis¬ 
cussing a school in Connecticut, and then after that, 
Miss Emily said she must try to engage Miss Cutter to 
come and sew, and she wondered how long it would take 
her to get Betsy fitted out.” 

“ I was right, I was right,” sighed Elizabeth. “ The 
blow has fallen.” She was silent for a few moments 
and seemed to be thinking deeply. 

Bess watched her earnestly. “ Elizabeth,” she ven¬ 
tured after a while, “ if Betsy goes away may I be your 
first-best friend ? ” 

Elizabeth considered this for a little while. “You 
can be here in school,” she promised, “ but outside of 
school, Betsy has to be, for I shall write to her ; that 
is,” she added somberly, “ if they allow it.” 

Bess was quite satisfied with the concession made her, 
for, after all, it was among her schoolmates that the 
relation counted, and there was no regret in her tones 
when she said : “ If Betsy doesn’t come back I am go¬ 
ing to ask Miss Dunbar if I may sit with you. Eliza¬ 
beth, don’t you want Fan this afternoon? You can 
have her just as well as not.” 

“ Well, yes, I should like her about four o’clock,” ad¬ 
mitted Elizabeth. 


54 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I’ll tell you what I can do,” said Bess glowing un¬ 
der the prospect of being Elizabeth’s first best from 
henceforth, “ I can ride her down to your house and 
leave her there if you like.” 

Elizabeth considered this really generous offer, for 
Bess never liked to walk when she could ride. “ I would 
rather you would fasten her around by your back gate,” 
she said finally, “ that gate, you know, where you have 
the wood brought in.” 

Bess agreed to this and then the bell rang, so with 
her arm around Elizabeth’s waist she entered the 
schoolroom with the proud mien of one who valued the 
privileges accorded her. 


CHAPTEK IY 


THE RESCUE 


A T four o’clock Betsy stole out the back gate and 
down to a great chestnut tree some rods away. 
This was the trysting place. In the hollow trunk of 
the old tree Betsy had often found mysterious notes 
addressed to Yera. This time there was no need to 
look for any message, for under the tree stood Eliza¬ 
beth holding old Fan by the bridle. A humpy looking 
bundle was strapped back of the saddle. As Betsy 
came near, Elizabeth watched her with an expression 
of grave interest. “ Is all well ? ” she asked. 

“ All is well,” replied Betsy always ready to respond 
to Elizabeth’s mood. 

“ They do not suspect ? ” came the next question. 
“Not they. I left her highness sleeping and the 
minions were not on watch.” 

This answer pleased Elizabeth mightily, but she did 
not relax her gravity. “We must away before the 
alarm is given,” she said. “ Come, fair lady; the pal¬ 
frey will bear you well. I myself will seat you.” She 
picked up little wiry Betsy in her arms to hoist her 
55 


56 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

upon the back of the old pony, but Betsy giggled so 
that she could not accomplish the feat very well, and 
the fair lady was obliged to mount unaided. Elizabeth 
led the way, once in a while turning to address Betsy 
in high-flown language, but not once inquiring into 
realities. There would be time enough for that later 
on. The opportunity for a truly clandestine flight was 
too precious to be wasted in commonplace talk. 

At last they came in sight of the cave. “ The way 
is harsh for thy tender feet, my lady Vera,” said Eliza¬ 
beth, “ and the palfrey would stumble. I will tether 
the beast here and assist you to yon retreat where you 
will be safe from wicked invaders.” 

This meant that Betsy must get down, which she 
did without effort. Elizabeth prepared to carry her 
the rest of the way, but Betsy was in such a state of 
laughter that Elizabeth caught the infection and had to 
put her down. 

“ You can’t do it, Elizabeth—I mean, Ivra,” said 
Betsy. “We can just pretend you carried me; you did 
do it part of the way, you know, and that will be enough 
to make it real.” 

Elizabeth did not protest very persistently, for, to tell 
the truth, though Betsy was much smaller than herself 
she was not a light burden for a rough path. Accord¬ 
ingly Betsy was ushered into the cave with much cere- 


THE RESCUE 


57 


mony. “ Rest you here, sweet dame,” said Elizabeth, 
“ and I will bring you food and drink.” 

“ 0 Elizabeth, what a lovely cave,” cried Betsy. 
“ How did you happen to find it ? What a fine surprise ! 
This is the greatest play we ever had. I didn’t dream 
that you were taking me to such a really truly retreat.” 

But Elizabeth was not yet ready to come back to the 
present. She waved her hand to the pile of leaves. 
“ It was a long and weary journey,” she declared. 
“ Recline upon this humble couch whilst I fetch you 
some modest refreshment,” she continued. She ran 
back to where Fan was standing, leaving Betsy ex¬ 
pectant and excited. Was ever such a person as Eliza¬ 
beth for devising new and delightful entertainments ? 

Detaching a package from the bundle fastened upon 
the pony’s back, Elizabeth returned to the cave to 
spread out her feast before Betsy. There were two 
sandwiches, saved from Elizabeth’s lunch, two turnovers 
reserved from the same, a bottle of make-believe wine, 
composed of sweetened water flavored with vanilla and 
colored with cranberry juice, two hard-boiled eggs, a 
hoard of late russet apples, and a small glass of jelly. 

Betsy watched while Elizabeth laid out these sup¬ 
plies upon a flat stone. “ O Elizabeth,” she exclaimed 
as the last article was put in place, “ that is a whole 
meal; we can never eat it all.” 


58 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ Then we can save what we can’t eat; it will do for 
another time,” Elizabeth suggested. 

Betsy viewed the feast critically. “We could save 
the apples and the jelly, but the rest would soon get 
stale.” 

“ The turnovers might keep for a day or two,” re¬ 
turned Elizabeth. “If we had anything to cook we 
could make a fire. I think there has been one over 
there.” Then resuming her former mode of speech she 
said: “ Eat and be refreshed, fair lady. Who knows 
how long we must fain secrete ourselves in this lonely 
spot ? ” 

“Ugh ! ” Betsy shivered. “ That sounds sort of hor¬ 
rible. It would be fearsome here in the dark, wouldn’t 
it ? I think these leaves seem a little damp. Perhaps 
we’d better not sit on them.” 

Elizabeth laid down her sandwich. “ Thou shalt be 
spared all possible discomfort, lady,” she said. “ I will 
return anon. I but go to fetch the robes I laid in a 
bundle upon the palfrey.” 

Betsy saw her depart without protest and went on 
contentedly munching her sandwich. Elizabeth mean¬ 
while ran to the spot where she had tethered Fan. 
There was the little sapling, there the big rock, but 
what had become of Fan ? She was nowhere in sight. 
“ O dear ! 0 dear me ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth look- 


THE RESCUE 


59 


ing around. “ Where can she be ? I thought I fastened 
her securely.” She examined the little tree, deciding 
after she had done so that it would not be difficult for 
the pony to tug at the bridle and finally to slip it over 
the slender limb. Elizabeth was not only disturbed but 
she was alarmed. Betsy was quite safe where she was, 
so the best thing to do would be to start in pursuit of 
Fan. She might be grazing near by or she might have 
trotted leisurely home. The rocky path showed little 
evidence of hoof prints, but finally Elizabeth found the 
trail which made her confident that Fan had taken the 
way back to her own quarters. However, Elizabeth 
felt that she must make sure. If Fan traveled slowly, 
stopping to graze by the way, she might soon overtake 
her and come back for Betsy, so the girl started in hot 
pursuit. 

No sign of Fan all the way to the village, but just as 
she came in sight of the Lyndes’ back gate she saw Fan 
trotting peaceably into the barn. Elizabeth gave a sigh 
of relief, then stood still. What should she do ? Go 
back to Betsy or go on and ask Bess to let her take the 
pony again ? 

While she was deliberating some one came running 
along the road, stopping short at sight of Elizabeth. 
“ Halloo,”—it was her brother Dick who greeted her. 
“ Where in the world have you been ? ” he asked. “ I 


60 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

have been looking the place over for you. Mother sent 
me out to hud you. She wants you to come home right 
away.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Cousin Belle and Ruth are there and they want to 
see you.” 

Elizabeth was fond of these cousins and really wanted 
to see them, but there was Betsy waiting for her. 
What should she do ? 

Seeing her hesitation Dick took hold of her shoulder. 
“ Come on,” he said. “ What’s the use of standing 
here dilly-dallying ? I’ve been ever so long hunting 
you up and I don’t want to waste any more time.” 

Elizabeth still held back. “ But—but ”—she stam¬ 
mered—“suppose I don’t go just yet? Won’t it do 
if I come in a little while ? ” 

Dick looked at her in surprise. “ What’s the matter 
with you ? I thought you were fond of Cousin Belle 
and Ruth.” 

“ So I am,” returned Elizabeth, “ but I have some¬ 
thing very important to attend to first.” 

“Ah, what’s the matter with you?” said Dick 
scornfully. “You come along; mother says you 
must,” and, keeping his grasp upon her shoulder, Dick 
hurried her along willy-nilly. 

There was no help for it, Betsy must stay where she 


THE RESCUE 


61 


was till Elizabeth should find a way to escape. She 
tried to devise ways and means as she was hurried 
along toward her home. Perhaps Betsy would get 
tired and would find her way back. To be sure Betsy 
did not have a very good bump of locality and had 
never been to the cave before. She always depended 
upon Elizabeth, who, as leader, kept her sense of 
direction. What had seemed a most praiseworthy 
scheme now fell out to be something quite different. 
Elizabeth began to realize that her imagination had 
carried her too far, and that to secrete Betsy in the 
cave till her aunt should be so alarmed as to consent to 
anything for the sake of seeing her restored, this was 
a very impractical thing. No, she must hurry back to 
Betsy as soon as opportunity permitted, Cousin Belle 
or no Cousin Belle. 

Dick rushed her into her mother’s presence. “ Here 
she is,” he announced, “ and a great time I had finding 
her. She oughtn’t to run wild over the face of the 
earth the way she does. There’s no telling what mis¬ 
chief she might get into.” 

Mrs. Hollins smiled. “Come here, daughter,” she 
said holding out her hand to Elizabeth. “ Where have 
you been ? ” 

“ Off in the woods,” replied Elizabeth. 

“ I know the woods are very fascinating,” said Mrs. 


62 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Hollins, “ especially at this time of year, but I wouldn’t 
wander too far. Come, here are Cousin Belle and Ruth; 
they were afraid they were not going to see you at all. 
Take Ruth up and show her your dolls and your last 
new book.” 

Elizabeth greeted her cousins and then took Ruth up 
to the corner of the attic which she called her play¬ 
room. Here she kept her dolls, her books, her games. 
She was beginning to outgrow her dolls, although she 
still kept her fancy for the paper ones. Ruth, who 
was two years younger, was still enthusiastic about the 
family which sat arow on the floor. She would like to 
have had Elizabeth institute one of the happy plays for 
which she was generally ready when her cousin came, 
but this time Elizabeth was uneasy and troubled. She 
went from one thing to another as rapidly as possible, 
dreading to see the moments go, wondering if Ruth 
and her mother meant to stay all night, contriving 
all sorts of plans by which she could escape. Ruth 
chattered away happily, asked questions, gave her own 
bits of news, but at last, finding Elizabeth so abstracted 
and unresponsive a companion, she proposed that they 
go back to find their elders. 

As soon as Elizabeth had reached the door of the 
library and had seen Ruth safely inside the room she 
darted off, out on the porch and down the steps, her 


THE RESCUE 


63 


one thought to get to Betsy. “ It would be fearsome 
here in the dark,” Betsy had said and the words 
haunted her. She had hardly reached the gate, how¬ 
ever, before Ruth was at her heels. “ Where are you 
going ? ” she cried. 

“ Oh, I thought I’d just take a little run,” said 
Elizabeth, stopping short. 

Ruth laughed. “ You are a funny girl. Why, it is 
supper time. ’Lectra is bringing it in now.” 

Elizabeth walked slowly back. “I didn’t know it 
was supper time,” she said. She felt a wild desire to 
scream, to rush off, no matter how rude she might ap¬ 
pear. She did none of these things, however, but went 
in and took her place at the table, though it must be 
confessed she scarcely tasted the food before her. 
Every mouthful seemed to choke her. She thought of 
Betsy, shivering with fear, of the little feast they had 
eaten together. She wondered if she would dare to go 
back to the cave by herself. She had learned that her 
cousins were going home after supper, that Ruth’s fa¬ 
ther was coming for them in the motor car. Cousin 
Belle was coaxing Mrs. Hollins to go back with them. 
“ Just for the night,” she entreated. “ Tom will bring 
you back to-morrow afternoon if you say so.” 

Finally Mrs. Hollins decided that she would go, and 
they all rose from the table to get ready. Elizabeth’s 


64 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


trouble seemed to increase. Why she did not confide 
in some one it is hard to say. Children often do keep 
such things to themselves influenced by fear or a 
strange reticence which it is difficult to explain. At 
all events Elizabeth did not tell, and saw her mother 
go off without a word. Then Kathie, too, went out, 
and her father said he was going down to the village. 
Babs was safe in bed, and Elizabeth was left with her 
brothers and Electra. Now was her time if ever. She 
was just turning over in her mind the best way to 
manage about getting the lantern when Electra came 
to the door of the library. “ I’m going to run over to 
Potter’s for a minute,” she announced. “ None of you 
will want the lantern, I guess. Your father’s got one 
and Jim has the other down at the barn, so I’ll take 
the kitchen one.” Dick said he had to tackle some 
tough problems for school next day and thought he 
wouldn’t be going out. Bert, too, was at work over 
his lessons. Elizabeth, wholly miserable, tried to make 
up her mind to confess her difficulties to Dick but 
could not bring herself to do it, especially after Dick, 
by right of an elder brother, ordered her to go to bed. 

“ I’ll go to my room, because I prefer no company to 
yours,” returned Elizabeth defiantly, “ but I’ll go to 
bed at the proper time and not before.” She switched 
off up-stairs followed by Dick’s mocking laugh and 


THE EESCUE 


65 


Bert’s jeering. “ My, but some people can be spunky 
when the grown-ups aren’t around.” 

Once in her room she could let the tears come, but 
these would not help Betsy, and the flood soon ceased. 
Then Elizabeth went to the window and looked out on 
the night. A little light still lingered in the west. A 
bright star hung low over the line of dark woods. 
Just over there was Betsy. Did she see the star ? 
“ After all,” Elizabeth began to comfort herself, 
“Betsy would not be so very uncomfortable. The 
night was mild; she had something to eat, and there 
was the pile of leaves. Betsy thought they were damp, 
but probably they were not.” She was trying to make 
the best of a bad situation, and had partially undressed 
when she heard Hal’s voice down-stairs. She crept 
out to the stairway and leaned over the baluster. 

“ She isn’t there,” she heard Hal say. “ Aunt Em is 
worried to death, for she never stays out like this with¬ 
out permission.” 

“ I thought she was sick or wasn’t at home ; I haven’t 
seen her about for a couple of days; she and Elizabeth 
are such cronies.” 

“ That’s why I was sure she might be here,” Hal 
went on. “ She went with me to the Seldens’ for over 
Sunday, and we didn’t get back in time for school, you 
know, so Aunt Em thought she might as well stay out 


66 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

to-day because the dressmaker was there and couldn’t 
spare another day right away.” 

So after all there had been no persecution; on the 
other hand, Betsy had been having a good time, but 
why hadn’t she told of it ? Elizabeth remembered that 
it was herself who always insisted upon carrying out a 
play to the letter; once the lady Ivra appeared she 
must retain her manner of speech until the signal was 
given to adopt the every-day one. The play was not 
over when she left Betsy dn the lurch. She ran back 
to her room to snatch up her wrapper. Of course there 
was no way out of it but to tell where Betsy was. 
What had seemed very romantic and delightful was 
something to be ashamed of in the face of practical 
truth. She thrust her arms into her wrapper and 
rushed back to the head of the stairs just in time to 
hear Hal say: “We’ve got to find her.” Then the 
door slammed and the two boys hurried out. 

Elizabeth’s first act was to rush back to her room, 
fling open the window and call after them, but their 
long legs had already taken them beyond the reach of 
her voice. She began to weep and wring her hands. 
“ O Betsy, Betsy,” she sobbed, “ I didn’t mean to be so 
cruel. I thought it was really kind. You will never 
speak to me again, never. O mother, mother, I would 
have told you if you had been here to kiss me good- 


THE RESCUE 


67 


night.” There must be some way out of it, she thought, 
and presently decided to dress herself and go down to 
Miss Emily, confess the whole thing and accept what¬ 
ever blame she deserved. Miss Emily would probably 
scold her, but she deserved a scolding. Mr. Tyson 
might do something dreadful, but, however dreadful, 
it would not be as bad as leaving Betsy alone in the 
cave. 

She had worked herself up into a state of heroic con¬ 
trition, had resumed her dress, when she heard her 
sister Kathie’s voice in the hall below. There was 
some one with her. Elizabeth went to the head of the 
stairs again to listen. In a moment she heard a man’s 
voice. She was sure it was Mr. Tyson’s. Here was 
her opportunity. She would go down and tell him. 
Kathie would be there to defend her, and surely he 
could not do anything so very dreadful then. 

She hesitated but one little moment, then she ran 
down-stairs, and in another moment was standing in 
the doorway of the living-room, a woe-begone, miser¬ 
able little body with tear-stained, distressed counte¬ 


nance. 


CHAPTER V 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


S soon as she saw her little sister, Kathie ran 



-ljl forward and gathered her in her arms. “ Why, 
dearie,” she said solicitously, “ what is the matter ? 
Are you ill ? ” 

“ No, no,” sobbed Elizabeth ; “ it’s Betsy ; she’s in 
the cave, and—and I c-couldn’t make the boys hear, 
and—and I was going—my—myself, but ’Lectra took 
the lantern.” 

“ She must be out of her head,” said Kathie turning 
to Mr. Tyson in alarm. “ I’m afraid she is really ill. 
We’d better send for the doctor.” 

“ No, no,” Elizabeth clutched her sister’s arm fiercely 
and sat up choking back her sobs. “ I tell you it’s 
Betsy; she’s in the cave and nobody knows where to 
find her.” 

“ Let me manage this, Miss Kathie,” said Mr. Tyson 
quietly. “I know this fanciful little sister of yours 
has queer ideas. She came to me with some of them 
the other day.” He drew his chair up to the sofa 


68 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


69 


where Katharine and Elizabeth were sitting. “ Come, 
Elizabeth,” he said, “ don’t get excited. We’ll see that 
it is all right. What cave do yon mean ? ” 

Elizabeth gave a long quivering sigh, but the quiet 
manner reassured her and she began a more coherent 
story. “ I mean the cave over under the high bluff. 
You go around back of the Lyndes’ place and follow 
the creek a little way, then you come to the river and 
there is a little path along the foot of the bluff; the 
cave is at the end of the path.” 

“Yes; I know the place.” Mr. Tyson still spoke 
quietly. “ Did you think Betsy might be there ? Why 
did you think it ? ” 

“ Because I took her there on the pony. Bess lent 
me old Fan and I was rescuing Betsy. I didn’t mean 
to leave her forever and ever, but the pony got away 
and when I came back to find her, Dick just made me 
come home and I couldn’t get away because Cousin 
Belle and Ruth were here, then it got dark and I was 
afraid to go without a lantern.” 

“ What do you mean by rescuing Betsy ? ” inquired 
Kathie. “ Whom were you rescuing her from ? ” 
Elizabeth hung her head and stole a side glance at 
Mr. Tyson. “ I thought they meant to send her away 
to school, and that they, I mean Miss Emily, was angry 
with her because she got her feet wet that day—that 


70 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

day,” she looked at Mr. Tyson, “ when we were not 
robbing birds’ nests.” 

“ I understand,” said the young man hiding a smile. 
“I really think, Miss Kathie, that she had worked 
herself up into a belief that Betsy was a much-abused 
person.” 

“ Why, Elizabeth, how perfectly dreadful! ” ex¬ 
claimed Kathie. “ How could you ever think up such 
a thing ? You know Miss Emily is devoted to Betsy 
and is as good as can be to her. Even if she were not, 
you ought to know that Mr. Tyson would not see her 
abused.” 

Elizabeth hung her head still lower. “ I did sort of 
make it up in my mind at first and then I began to be¬ 
lieve it really might be that way because we didn’t see 
a sign of Betsy for three or four days. I didn’t know 
till this evening that she had been away with Hal.” 

“ She has given her imagination a long rope, you 
see,” said Mr. Tyson. “Well, Elizabeth, I think we 
must not lose any time in going after Betsy, if you 
think she is still there.” 

“ She wasn’t at home a little while ago,” Elizabeth 
told him, “for Hal was here asking about her. He 
and Dick went to find her. I tried to call after them 
but I couldn’t make them hear, then I heard you two 
down here and that is why I came. O Kathie, sup- 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


71 


pose wild beasts should get her. She said it would be 
a fearsome place after dark, and oh, poor Betsy, I left 
her. I shall never be happy again. I think I ought 
really to go to prison and you can put me there and 
feed me on bread and water,” she turned tragically to 
Mr. Tyson. 

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Mr. Tyson 
assured her. “I think you have wrought out your 
own punishment, but perhaps it might be well to add 
to it a little by taking you with me to find Betsy.” 

“ Oh, will you ? Do you think we shall find her 
safe and not a raving maniac ? ” 

“ You are the craziest child I ever saw,” put in 
Katharine. “ I don’t see how you do get such no¬ 
tions.” 

Elizabeth had been told this too often to have it 
make much impression upon her. “ Do you think there 
could be any wild beasts ? ” she appealed to Mr. Tyson. 

“ Nothing worse than a fox or a woodchuck or some¬ 
thing of that kind,” he comforted her by saying. 

“ There couldn’t be a wildcat ? ” 

“We have never seen any about here.” 

“ But even a fox could scare her awfully.” 

“ So it could, though I doubt if even a fox would 
come her way. However, we’d better start off at 
once.” 


72 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ ’Lectra has come back with the lantern,” Elizabeth 
said. “ I saw her pass the window just now. I’ll go 
and get it.” 

“ Put on something warm,” her sister charged her. 
“ It isn’t so very cold but you’d better wrap up.” 

Elizabeth obediently put on her coat and started off 
with Mr. Tyson, who carried the lantern. He knew 
the way as well as she; indeed, he knew a short cut 
which she had not discovered, though it involved a 
scramble down a steep bank. With Mr. Tyson to give 
her a hand Elizabeth did not mind this, the only fear 
remaining with her being that concerning Betsy’s 
safety, and, that being assured, the possibility of such 
indignation upon Betsy’s part as would cause the loss 
of her friendship. Perhaps that was to be the punish¬ 
ment. Elizabeth drew a long sigh as she trotted along 
by Mr. Tyson’s side, then she voiced her fears by ask¬ 
ing, “ Do you think Betsy will ever speak to me 
again ? ” 

“ Why not?” 

“ Because I was the one who was cruel and not you 
nor Miss Emily. I didn’t mean to be. I meant to go 
right back as soon as I had found old Fan, but every¬ 
thing kept me, and I didn’t have a chance to tell any 
one, besides I was afraid to.” 

“ Why were you afraid ? ” 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


73 


“ I don’t know. I hated to be laughed at, I suppose. 
If I could have had mother all to myself I would have 
told her, but she went off with Cousin Belle, and Ruth 
tagged me every step so I could scarcely think.” 

“ I see. Well, we must try to make Betsy under¬ 
stand that it was not intentional desertion on her 
part.” 

“ And are you going to stand up for me ? I didn’t 
think you would.” 

There was something so pathetic in the child’s self- 
abasement that Mr. Tyson felt a strong yearning over 
the unhappy little girl. He spoke very gently when he 
said: “I certainly will stand up for you if that is 
needed, Elizabeth.” 

She pressed his hand against her cheek. “ You are 
very good,” she said. “ I don’t deserve it, but I am 
very thankful that you are.” 

“You poor little soul,” he returned drawing her 
hand closer within his arm. 

Elizabeth took the comfort of this, but presently a 
new dread overcame her. “ I don’t suppose Miss 
Emily will ever let me come to see Betsy again, and 
won’t let her come to see me after this awful tragedy.” 

She did not see Mr. Tyson’s smile as he answered: 
“ We’ll have to see about that, too. I think I can man¬ 
age Miss Emily. I told your sister that she’d better 


74 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

telephone to my aunt and tell her not to worry, that I 
knew where Betsy was.” 

“ Oh, did you do that ? I think you are an extremely 
thoughtful man.” 

This time Mr. Tyson laughed outright. The sudden 
transitions from utter childishness to a mature way of 
speaking amused him greatly. 

By this time they were within hail of the cave and 
Elizabeth gave the shrill call which she and Betsy had 
made their own special one. There was no answer. 
“ O dear, she has wandered off in her frenzy,” ex¬ 
claimed Elizabeth, “ or perhaps she has fainted from 
fright.” 

“ Call again,” suggested Mr. Tyson, and joined with 
her in making the hillside ring. They waited a second 
and in a moment discerned a faint reply. 

“ She’s there! She’s there! ” cried Elizabeth in de¬ 
light. “ We’re coming, Betsy! We’re coming!” she 
shrilled out. 

They were now within plain view of the cave and 
could distinguish Betsy’s small figure in the dim light. 
The air was soft and balmy. A young moon hung in 
the sky over the murmuring river. A whippoorwill 
was calling in the distance. But Elizabeth noticed 
none of these things, although at another time nothing 
would have escaped her. She rushed forward, crying, 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


75 


“ O Betsy, Betsy, are you in your senses? Were you 
distracted with fear ? ” 

“ I was beginning to think everybody had forgotten 
me,” came the answer. 44 How could you play me such 
a trick, Elizabeth ? It was carrying things a little too 
far.” 

“ I didn’t mean to; I didn’t mean to,” returned 
Elizabeth. “ I am a terrible example of circumstances, 
Betsy. When I explain you will see how it was. You 
can’t imagine what agony of spirit I have endured. I 
have suffered the tortures of Damocles. Were there 
any wild beasts, Betsy ? ” 

“ Owls,” Betsy told her, 44 and some scurrying thing 
that wanted to go into the cave, but I think it was 
more afraid of me than I was of it. I ate up all the 
feast, Elizabeth, but I was very, very lonely. I cried 
a little because I thought you had deserted me on pur¬ 
pose. I thought you were a false, false friend and that 
you were making me suffer willingly.” 

44 Then you did suffer ? ” cried Elizabeth. 44 I knew 
it, and you were too brave to say so. Oh, how I re¬ 
pent this night’s doings! Can you ever love me 
again ? ” 

44 Of course,” Betsy assured her, 44 if you can give me 
a good reason for neglecting me. Is Aunt Emily very 
angry, Uncle Robert ? ” 


76 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I have not seen her, my dear,” he answered. “ I 
took supper at the Paines’. After supper I walked 
over home with Miss Kathie and there I discovered 
that you were missing.” 

“ I would have come back by myself,” Betsy ex¬ 
plained, “ but I didn’t know the way exactly, and 
besides I waited till it was so late that I was afraid. 
Do you think Aunt Emily will scold very much, 
Uncle Robert ? She always worries so over my 
being out late. I wish she didn’t have to know about 
this.” 

“ She knows you are safe,” her uncle told her. “ I 
sent word that I knew where you were.” 

“ Oh, I am so relieved,” sighed Betsy. “ Shall you 
tell her where I was ? ” 

Mr. Tyson considered this question before he an¬ 
swered. “I think I shall spare her the knowledge,” 
he said, “ on one condition. I don’t want to be hard 
on either of you, but I think you should make me a 
promise.” 

“ I will promise anything, anything,” declared Eliza¬ 
beth fervently. 

“ And I will promise anything that Elizabeth will,” 
Betsy assured him. 

“ Then if you will promise not to go tramping so far 
from home, and will confine your wanderings to the 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


77 


woods and fields of your own homes, I will see if I can 
arrange that Aunt Emily shall not know.” 

“ Must we never, never go anywhere else ? ” inquired 
Betsy dubiously. 

“ Not by yourselves. If some older person is with 
you, that is quite another thing.” 

This relieved the situation somewhat, and both the 
girls promised, Elizabeth raising her hand tragically 
and saying, “ I solemnly vow that I will enter into this 
covenant, and hereto I give thee my word of honor.” 

“ So do I,” averred Betsy. 

Mr. Tyson was seized with a sudden cough which he 
tried to turn into a sneeze. “ This night air is a little 
damp,” he remarked. “ I think we’d better be getting 
back. Are you warm enough, Betsy ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, uncle. I have my coat on, you see, and it 
is really very pleasant. I shouldn’t have liked to 
spend the night in the cave,” she added presently. 

“ Oh, you dear child.” Elizabeth gave her an affec¬ 
tionate hug. “ When I think of that possibility I could 
sit in sackcloth and ashes.” 

“ How would you like Betsy to spend the night with 
you ? ” inquired Mr. Tyson. “ Your mother is away, 
and it might be good for both of you.” 

“ I’d love it! ” cried Elizabeth ecstatically. 

“ I’d love it,” echoed Betsy. “ And then Aunt 


78 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Emily wouldn’t have to know,” she added as an after¬ 
thought. 

“ That is just what I was thinking. I will see you 
young ladies home and then I will go tell Aunt Emily 
that you are staying with Elizabeth with my permis¬ 
sion.” 

Elizabeth dropped on one knee before him endanger¬ 
ing her head by a sudden contact with the lantern. 
“ Will you let me kiss your hand ? ” she said. “ I feel so 
abjective. You are heaping coals of fire upon my de¬ 
voted head.” 

“ You ridiculous child,” said Mr. Tyson drawing away 
the hand she had seized. “ I wonder if you will fall 
into these heroics when you are grown up. Don’t let 
us have any more nonsense. Yes, I understand,” he 
went on as Elizabeth murmured something about her 
gratitude ; “ that is all right, but you don’t have to ex¬ 
press it in that way. I am not a king and you are not 
a peasant.” 

It was on Elizabeth’s tongue to respond to the ro¬ 
mantic suggestion held in these words, but she realized 
that Mr. Tyson would rather she did not, so she 
kept silence, and the two girls trotted along at his 
heels, feeling very happy at the way things had turned 
out. 

They were safely delivered into Kathie’s hands. 


WHEN NIGHT CAME 


79 


There were a few low words of explanation from Mr. 
Tyson, followed by a little laugh from Kathie, then the 
two girls were told they must go right to bed. Mr. 
Tyson kissed his niece good-night and took his depar¬ 
ture. Kathie asked if the children were hungry, and, 
on being assured that they were not, allowed them to 
go up-stairs without further comment. On the way 
home there had been an exhaustive explanation from 
Elizabeth. Betsy had accepted it very sweetly, and 
Elizabeth’s humility was complete. 

“ How strange it is,” she remarked as she was taking 
off her stockings and shoes, “ a little while ago I was 
weeping my heart out in this very room, and now I am 
so happy. What a noble, knightly personage your 
uncle is.” 

Betsy had never thought of him as a personage at all, 
but she liked the praise. “ Uncle Robert is rather 
nice,” she replied. “ But,” she added a moment later, 
“ I never knew him to be quite so nice as he was to¬ 
night. Do you know, Elizabeth, it is the first time I 
have been allowed to spend the night with you.” 

“ Do you think I don’t realize that ? ” said Elizabeth. 
“ The Lord has been very good to me. I must do 
something to show my repentance.” 

“ What for ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ For my evil thoughts, and my unjust suspicions. I 


80 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


haven’t told you about them, Betsy. I will when we 
get into bed.” This she began to do, but both children 
were tired out. Betsy was asleep before Elizabeth 
finished her confession, which at last trailed off into 
dreams and was never finished at all. 


CHAPTER VI 


A PENITENT 

I T was well for Betsy that her Aunt Emily began her 
spring cleaning the next day, otherwise she might 
have been called to account, but Miss Tyson was glad 
to have her out of the way and asked no questions 
when Betsy stopped to get her books. At school when 
she explained her absence to Bess she merely said that 
she was kept at home by the dressmaker, but there was 
no word said of the night adventure; that was a secret 
between herself and Elizabeth. How that the experi¬ 
ence was over these two regarded it as something quite 
precious in their memories, a thing of much more im¬ 
portance than the make-believe plays of every day. 
Kathie had been sworn to secrecy, and Hal had been 
satisfied with his uncle’s explanation. Bess felt some¬ 
what chagrined at having to fall back into her place of 
second-best friend, for with this new bond between 
them Elizabeth and Betsy were more devoted than 
ever. They ignored Bess rather more than her rela¬ 
tion of second best deserved, thought Bess, and she was 
ready to find some cause for complaint. 

“How was it that you let the pony come home 
81 


82 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


alone ? ” she asked Elizabeth as the three girls were 
walking home from school. 

“ She got away from me,” replied Elizabeth truth¬ 
fully. “ I saw her going into the stable and knew she 
was all right. I couldn’t catch up with her, you see.” 

Bess looked puzzled. It was not in Fan’s nature to 
travel at such a gait that she could not be overtaken, 
even giving her a fairly good start. “ I don’t see how 
in the world she got away from you,” commented 
Bess; “ she never did from me.” 

“ I tied her, but I suppose I didn’t do it quite right,” 
explained Elizabeth. 

This seemed fairly satisfactory, but Bess was not 
yet appeased. “You told me that Betsy was going 
away to school, and she isn’t at all. That was a big 
story, Elizabeth Hollins.” 

“ I really thought so, didn’t I, Betsy ? ” Elizabeth 
turned to her first best to back her up. 

“ Of course you thought so or you wouldn’t have 
said it.” Betsy was ready to confirm Elizabeth’s speech. 

“ Your Aunt Emily never had an idea of sending you 
away to school this year,” persisted Bess; “ she told 
my grandmother so.” 

“ I never said she did,” returned Betsy. 

“ Well, but Elizabeth said so.” It was one of Bess’s 
peculiarities that she could not let a subject drop. 


A PENITENT 


83 


“ She had good reason to think so,” answered Betsy, 
loyal to the last. 

“Was your Aunt Emily so very very cross then 
when you got so wet the other day ? ” Bess probed for 
the reason. 

“ Not so very.” Betsy was not a person of many 
words. 

“ Then what did she mean by telling Norah not to 
allow us to come to see you ? ” 

“ Did Aunt Emily say that ? ” 

“ Norah said she did.” 

“She didn’t either,” Elizabeth broke in. “I’ll tell 
you just what Norah said,” and Elizabeth repeated 
Norah’s words. 

Betsy laughed. “ That’s just like Norah; she loves 
to tease and she knew I had gone to Elmslie with Hal, 
so she thought she’d play a joke on you.” 

“We didn’t think it was a joke, did we, Elizabeth ? ” 
Bess found a new cause for grievance. 

“We thought she did really mean to be in earnest,” 
admitted Elizabeth, “ but now I see she was only in 
fun.” 

“ Well, you certainly did get me all worked up and 
you called Miss Emily a witch aunt, you know you 
did.” It might be well to raise btme discontent in 
Betsy’s mind against Elizabeth, thought Bess. She 


84 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

did not want actually to break off the friend¬ 
ship, but if she could lessen it a little she would not 
object. 

But here her intention failed for Betsy only laughed. 
“ That sounds just like Elizabeth,” she declared. 

They parted from Bess at the gate of her home, and 
went on together to the brick house. “ What was the 
matter with Bess to-day ? ” said Elizabeth. “ She did 
nothing but try to pick flaws.” 

“ I think she was miffed because you and I had so 
many secrets,” responded Betsy. 

Elizabeth nodded. “ I think you’re right. I told 
her if you didn’t come back to school that she could be 
first best there, but that you must always be first best 
outside. Of course if you were not in school, you 
couldn’t be any best at all.” 

“ No, of course not,” Betsy was ready to agree. 4 

“ I have been thinking,” said Elizabeth, “ that be¬ 
cause you are first best and always will be, that we 
should have special names for each other, not the play 
ones like Ivra and those, because Bess knows all about 
them, but something we can have for just ourselves. 
I might call you Phillippa and you could call me 
Fredrika, then if any one overheard us, or discovered 
our notes, they wouldn’t know whether it was a girl or 
a boy we meant.” 


A PENITENT 


85 


“ I think that would be fun,” agreed Betsy. “ I will 
call you Fred in the very first note I write to you, 
and you can call me Phil.” 

“ There is another thing,” Elizabeth went on. “ Do 
you think I ought to apologize to your aunt for my ijn- 
just suspicions ? ” 

“ Why should you ? That would let the cat out of 
the bag, you see, and get us both into a peck of trouble. 
Aunt Em is really very kind, but she is fussy and nerv¬ 
ous sometimes, and if Uncle Robert thought she needn’t 
know we’d better not tell her.” 

This satisfied Elizabeth on that point, still she did 
not feel easy even after she had made an open confes¬ 
sion to her mother that night. “ My dear little girl,” 
said Mrs. Hollins, “you see what difficulties you get 
into by allowing your fancies to run away with you. 
I cannot understand how you could allow them to take 
you so far. I don’t know what will become of you if 
you don’t curb your imagination.” 

“ I am always so sorry afterward,” contended Eliza¬ 
beth. “ I bitterly repent my folly.” 

“ It isn’t enough to feel sorry when it is too late,” 
her mother warned her; “ you should show that you 
really are sorry.” 

Elizabeth lay still thinking over these last words 
after her mother left her. What could she do to show 


86 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

that she was sorry ? She saw that it would only make 
matters worse if she were to make a confession to Miss 
Emily. She lay there pondering over the subject in¬ 
tent upon making some open declaration of her peni¬ 
tence. Before she went to sleep she had planned what 
she would do and the next afternoon made an effort to 
carry out her plan. First she rummaged around the 
stable till she found an old gunny bag which her father 
said she could have. She carried this up to her corner 
of the attic, ripped it open at the bottom, cut two 
holes in it, ran a string in the top and then carried it 
out to a far corner of the orchard. Next she went to 
the back of the house, gathered up a bucketful of ashes 
which she laboriously toted down to the same spot. 
She spread the ashes in a circle upon the ground, drew 
the bag over her head, thrust her arms through the 
two holes and drew up the string around her neck. 
Then she seated herself upon the ashes, gathered a 
handful of them and laid them upon her head. The 
sun beat down hotly, for she had chosen an exposed 
place, and the ashes did not make a very comfortable 
seat. At the end of ten minutes Elizabeth drew a long 
sigh. “ I said I would sit here for an hour,” she said to 
herself, “ but I can’t tell when the hour will be up. I 
suppose I’d better say that I will stand it as long as 
I possibly can; that surely should be enough.” 


A PENITENT 


87 


She sat perfectly still for a little while longer then 
began to weave back and forth, crooning, “Ai! Ai! 
I’m a miserable sinner.” There was a little more satis¬ 
faction to be gained from this because it gave her 
something to do. The sitting still was very hard. 
From merely weaving back and forth she began to 
move her arms about. It was interesting to see how 
many wild gestures she could make, and to make her 
movements keep time with the lament. 

After about twenty minutes, however, she was inter¬ 
rupted by a shrill voice close by. “ What is you do¬ 
ing, ’Lizbes ? ” it inquired. 

Elizabeth turned her head. There stood Babs deeply 
interested in the performance. 

“Go away,” commanded Elizabeth in stern tones. 
“ What are you interrupting me for ? I declare you 
are the most snoopy little child I ever saw. I don’t 
wonder St. Simon Stylites lived on the top of a ladder 
if he had a sister like you. I can’t do a thing but you 
come prying around.” 

Babs stood still with finger in her mouth. She was 
too deeply interested in Elizabeth’s remarkable costume 
to leave at first command. “ But what is you doing it 
for ? ” she persisted. 

“ I am doing a penance, so there,” returned Elizabeth 
crossly. “ For pity’s sake don’t stand there staring at 


88 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


me; it won’t be any good if I am to be interrupted 
this way.” 

Babs stood still for a moment longer then she ran 
off, but her curiosity was by no means satisfied. She 
would ask mother, that never-failing source of informa¬ 
tion. No doubt Elizabeth was being punished in some 
mysterious way, though the why and wherefore was a 
mystery. Babs trotted up-stairs to her mother’s room. 
“ Muvver,” she began all out of breath from the haste 
with which she had come, “ what is ’Lizbes doing ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know. What is she doing ? ” said 
Mrs. Hollins looking up from her pile of mending. 

“ Se is down in ze orshid settin on ze gwound, and 
se has a funny, funny old bag on. Se said se was do¬ 
ing a pennas. I fought se was kwying at first for se 
was making a funny noise, but I fink it was singing 
maybe,” Babs spoke doubtfully. 

“ I think I shall have to go and see,” said Mrs. Hol¬ 
lins laying aside her work. “ You can come to show 
me where she is.” 

This was exactly what Babs was pleased to do. She 
led the way in triumph, but when her mother held up 
her finger to enforce quiet she stood still without speak¬ 
ing. Mrs. Hollins could but smile at the curious pic¬ 
ture before her—Elizabeth squatting upon the ground, 
waving her arms rhythmically and chanting a weird 


A PENITENT 


89 


sort of plaint. The sun beat down upon her burnished 
locks, which were plentifully bestrewn with white, 
ashes, and she looked warm and uncomfortable. 

“ What are you doing, Elizabeth ? ” It was her 
mother’s voice this time which interrupted the penitent. 

Elizabeth sprang to her feet, the ragged bag falling 
around her slim ankles in an uneven line. “ I am do¬ 
ing what you told me to,” said Elizabeth with a virtu¬ 
ous air. “ You said it wasn’t enough to say I was 
sorry, and that I must do something to show it, so I 
am repenting in sackcloth and ashes.” 

“ Well, from your appearance I should say you had 
done it long enough,” observed her mother. “ Take off 
that bag and come up-stairs so I can brush those ashes 
out of your hair. When I said that I did not mean 
that you were to give me, or any one else, added 
trouble.” 

“ O dear! ” Elizabeth sighed. “ I didn’t think of the 
ashes. The book says they put them on their heads.” 

“ What book ? ” 

“ The one about the ancient Jews in the library.” 

“ But so long as you are not an ancient Jew I think 
you could find some better way of expressing your re¬ 
pentance, something that would affect yourself alone 
and make you remember. Come now, but don’t leave 
the bag lying around to litter up the place.” 


90 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


Elizabeth slipped off the bag, hung it over her arm 
and followed her mother. She was secretly pleased to 
have an end put to a performance which was growing 
very wearisome, but she felt that her mother was 
singularly unappreciative. To be sure, that matter of 
ashes in her hair was not to be overlooked. It was 
strange how often perfectly good intentions turned out 
to be entirely wrong. The next time she would take 
her mother’s advice and do something which would af¬ 
fect herself alone. She did not feel that she had com¬ 
pleted her penance. This afternoon’s had been meant 
to cover her injustice toward Miss Emily; there was 
still the wrong to Betsy to be considered. All the 
time her mother was brushing her hair Elizabeth was 
thinking about this, and when the locks had resumed 
their usual brightness she had determined what to do. 

The next morning she started off to school blithely 
enough considering what discomfort was in store for 
her. By afternoon the martyrdom had increased and 
by evening had become almost unendurable; yet, hav¬ 
ing vowed to herself that she would undergo this self- 
imposed penance for the entire day, Elizabeth would 
not give in one inch. 

As she left the supper table her mother said: “ Eliza¬ 
beth, what makes you limp in that manner ? Have 
you sprained your ankle ? ” 


A PENITENT 


91 


“ No, mother,” replied Elizabeth with set mouth and 
with an expression which spoke of pain. 

“ Then something must be the matter. Come over 
here and let me see if there is anything in your shoe.” 

Elizabeth hesitated, but there was nothing to do but 
obey. The others had left the room so there were no 
witnesses to the examination. Mrs. Hollins herself un¬ 
tied and took off one of the shoes. As she shook it, 
from the inside rolled several very hard dried peas. 

“ What in the world,” began Mrs. Hollins looking at 
Elizabeth’s telltale face. “I verily believe you put 
those in there yourself,” she said. “ Did you do it, 
Elizabeth, and if so what for ? ” 

Elizabeth was nothing if not truthful. Whatever her 
faults were, her mother knew that she could rely abso¬ 
lutely upon her honesty. 

“ Yes, I did put them there,” said Elizabeth. “ I did 
it because I hadn’t finished my punishment. You said 
I must do something that wouldn’t hurt any one but 
me, and these did hurt awfully. I could stand it very 
well at first, but it was getting dreadful.” She gave a 
long sigh of relief as her mother drew off the other 
shoe. 

For a moment Mrs. Hollins was disposed to scold, but 
a glance at the appealing eyes made her understand that 
the motive was sincere, however exaggerated it might 


92 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

be. She gathered Elizabeth into her mother arms. 
“ You poor little mistaken child,” she said. “ Why is 
it that you are always doing such unlooked-for things ? 
Why do you always put such strange constructions upon 
things that are said to you ? ” She passed her hand 
caressingly over the shining head. 

“ It does seem as if I always did the wrong thing,” 
said Elizabeth settling herself closer on her mother’s 
lap, u but this time I truly didn’t hurt any one but my¬ 
self, did I ? ” 

“ No, but the next time you are hunting for punish¬ 
ments come to mother and let her advise you. How did 
you happen to think of the dried peas ? ” 

“ The pilgrims used to put them in their shoes, you 
know, and I thought if they could stand it I could.” 

“ But why hark back to ancient Jews and mediaeval 
pilgrims ? ” 

“ Because they are so much more interesting than any¬ 
body else,” confessed Elizabeth. 

Her mother laughed. “ I am sorry you don’t find us 
interesting,” she said, hugging the child closer. 

“ Oh, but I didn’t mean you, darling mother,” Eliza¬ 
beth was quick to assure her. “ I meant every-day peo¬ 
ple that one reads about. Knights and princesses and 
fairies are so delightful.” 

“ But they are not the people one has to deal with, and 


A PENITENT 


93 


as long as we have to live like every-day people, don’t 
you think it is better to adopt the ordinary ways of 
doing ? ” 

“ I suppose so,” replied Elizabeth with a sigh. She 
was not ready to part with romance at short notice, 
though she was obliged to confess that she found her¬ 
self much more comfortable when she was rid of the 
dried peas in her shoes. 


CHAPTER VII 


FEED AND PHIL 


HE school to which the girls went was the only 



JL one in the village and was presided over by a 
teacher who had held her position for many years. 
She was no longer young and her methods were not of 
the newest. She was tolerant of most things, but there 
were a few rules which she made much of and strictly 
enforced. The Academy, as it was called, was attended 
by the larger boys of the neighborhood and by some of 
the girls who believed they had outgrown Miss Dun¬ 
bar’s teachings. Those who attended the Academy had 
to ride or walk the three miles between the village of 
Brookdale and Ferney. Elizabeth’s sister Katharine 
had been graduated from the Academy the year before 
and it was Elizabeth’s ambition to follow in her steps. 
Her brother Dick, with Hal Tyson, Heal Paine, and 
several others, went over on their wheels in pleasant 
weather and on cold or stormy days they took turns in 
driving. 

“ If only Bess could go to the Academy, we might 
all three drive over every day with Fan,” said Eliza- 


FRED AND PHIL 95 

beth to Betsy one day when they were discussing the 
subject. 

“ Then we’d have to start at six o’clock to get there 
in time ; old Fan is so slow,” returned Betsy. 

“We might hire a motor car if we had money 
enough,” Elizabeth jumped from one extreme to the 
other, “ then we could get there in no time. I wonder 
how we could earn money enough to buy one.” 

“ Who would run it ? ” inquired Betsy with more 
practical mind. 

“ Oh, one of the boys could learn, Dick or Hal. If 
we could get one big enough we could easily all get in. 
Dick is always fussing because he doesn’t like to get up 
early and has to fly around like anything so he can get 
off in time. I’m going to think and plan very hard, 
and if I get any sort of an idea I’ll write you a note. 
Things often come to me in school. I wish they 
wouldn’t, but somehow when I ought to have my mind 
on my lessons it will fly off to all sorts of things. If 
we think of anything very easable, we’ll tell Bess.” 

“ It isn’t easable ; it’s feasible,” corrected Betsy. 

“ Well, it ought to be easable, because it means doing 
things easily,” protested Elizabeth. “Don’t forget, 
Betsy, that when we two have secrets we must call 
one another those names we decided upon. You 
haven’t told any one about them, have you ? ” 


96 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Not a soul,” declared Betsy. “ I promised I 
wouldn’t, and wild horses shall not drag the secret 
from me.” 

“ Suppose we sign the compact in blood,” suggested 
Elizabeth, delighted to think of something weird and 
uncanny whether the occasion demanded or not. 

“ O Elizabeth, how can we ? ” asked Betsy rather 
taken aback by this gory suggestion. 

“Easily enough,” maintained Elizabeth. “We can 
just prick our fingers and squeeze out a little. We 
shall not need very much just to sign our names. I 
think Dick has some red ink that we can use to write 
the compact. I’ll go hunt it up while you think out 
what we should say.” 

“Bring some paper, too,” Betsy called after her 
as she ran off. “ I don’t believe there is any up 
here.” 

By the time Elizabeth had returned with the red 
ink, some pens and paper, Betsy had thought out a 
formula. 

“ I borrowed these from Dick’s room,” Elizabeth in¬ 
formed Betsy. “Dick wasn’t there, but I will take 
them back and then I’ll tell him I borrowed them. 
Have you thought of what to say, Betsy ? ” 

“ How will this do ? ” asked Betsy. “ I promise on 
my heart’s blood not to reveal our secret.” 


FRED AND PHIL 


97 


“ That will do beautifully,” agreed Elizabeth; “ it is 
so nice and short. You write better than I do, so 
you can be putting it down on this sheet of paper 
while I get my finger ready.” 

Betsy set to work and in a few minutes was regard¬ 
ing her neat lines with satisfaction. 

“ Hurry up,” cried Elizabeth. “ I have a big drop 
all ready and I’m afraid I shall lose it if I have to keep 
my hand still much longer. Give me the pen quick.” 

Betsy hurried to obey and with some difficulty 
Elizabeth managed to inscribe her name. “Don’t you 
think we should have two copies?” she said. “We 
should each have one, I think.” 

Betsy was perfectly willing to make a second copy, 
and this was signed, with much gravity, in the same 
manner as the first. 

“ Now,” continued Elizabeth, “ they must be sealed 
and delivered,—‘signed, sealed, and delivered,’—you 
know. I shall have to go get some red sealing 
wax.” 

She rushed off to make a second raid upon Dick’s 
possessions when he came in and discovered her. 
“ What are you doing rummaging among my things ? ” 
he asked sharply. 

“I’m only looking for a little bit of red sealing 
wax,” she told him. “ I know you have a lot and you 


98 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

wouldn’t be so mean as not to lend me a little,” she 
said wheedlingly. 

“ Oh, all right, but I wish you wouldn’t come turn¬ 
ing over my papers when I’m not here. I’ll have to 
lock my desk, I see. Where’s my red ink ? I’ll bet 
anything you’ve made off with that.” 

“I only borrowed it for a few minutes,” replied 
Elizabeth frankly. “ I’ll bring it right back.” 

“ See that you do ; I want to use it. You won’t get 
a chance after this, for I shall lock everything up to 
keep it out of the way of you children. Babs was in 
here this morning fooling with my lead pencils and 
now you come.” 

To be classed with Babs was rather humiliating, but 
big brothers have a way of lumping the younger fry 
under one head as “children,” and Elizabeth was 
accustomed to it and knew it was no use to resent it. 
Indeed she did quite the opposite, for she found it very 
convenient to forage among Dick’s belongings and if 
he carried out his threat of locking them up she would 
often be at a loss to supply herself with pencils, paper 
and such things. 

“ I don’t see why in the world you wanted red ink,” 
Dick went on grumblingly. “ There is plenty of black 
ink down-stairs.” 

“ But the red is such a lovely color,” returned Eliza- 


FEED AND PHIL 


99 


beth evasively. “ If I bring you a little bottle will you 
give me just a teentsy, weentsy bit, Dick ? ” She was 
thinking of the time when it might be needed for 
future compacts. 

“ Oh, yes, I suppose so, if you will go along and stop 
bothering. I have a lot of work to do.” 

Elizabeth took the hint and went off, but was some 
time in returning because it was not easy to find a 
bottle of just the right size. Though he growled be¬ 
cause she did not come back at once, Dick filled the 
tiny bottle his sister presented and she went off satis¬ 
fied. 

The next step was to seal the compacts, and this was 
a matter of more difficulty than the writing and sign¬ 
ing, for the wax would act most contrarily, at one time 
being too little melted and at another too much; but 
at last three sprawly seals adorned the paper and the 
girls regarded their work with pride. “ Now,” said 
Elizabeth, “they must be delivered. I will deliver 
yours to you and you must deliver mine to me. Phil- 
lippa, I deliver unto you our solemn compact.” She 
held out the paper theatrically. 

“ Fredrika, I deliver unto you our solemn compact,” 
repeated Betsy, and the deed was done. 

The next morning when she opened her desk at 
school Betsy found a note which read: 


100 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, A YD BESS 


Dear Phil : 

Will you meet me this afternoon at the tryst- 
ing place, at four o’clock ? Leave answer under stone. 

Your devoted Fred. 

As the day wore on Betsy wondered how Elizabeth 
had managed to get the note to her, for the bright 
auburn head was missing from the usual place in class. 
Bess told her at recess that Elizabeth had gone to town 
with her mother to get a pair of shoes. They had 
stopped at the Lyndes’ on their way. Betsy deter¬ 
mined to get her note ready promptly and put it under 
the stone so that Elizabeth would be sure to get it in 
time. She would write the note the first thing after 
she reached home. 

This she prepared to do, not even waiting to go to 
her own room but seating herself at the desk in the 
library. She was so absorbed in what she was doing 
that she did not hear her Aunt Emily when she entered 
and came up close behind her just as she was fairly un¬ 
der way with the note. If she had seen Miss Tyson’s 
horror-stricken countenance she would not have gone 
even as far as she did. The good lady did not wait for 
more than the opening words before she reached over 
and possessed herself of the sheet upon which Betsy 
was writing. Adjusting her spectacles Miss Emily 
read aloud the words : 


FRED AND PHIL 


101 


Dearest Fred : 

I will meet you at the trysting place at the 
time you mention- 

This was quite enough to rouse Miss Emily’s suspi¬ 
cions. “ Betsy Tyson,” she cried, “ who is this Fred 
you are writing notes to? Don’t you know that I 
must strictly discountenance any such correspondence ? 
You to be writing to a boy! A Boy! ” Miss Tyson 
spoke the words as if the object were almost too despi¬ 
cable to mention. “I am horrified, shocked beyond 
measure that you, my niece, the daughter of my own 
beloved brother’s son should be guilty of such an act. 
From the wording of this effusion I should imagine 
that this is an answer to some communication from this 
Fred, whoever he may be. A trysting place, forsooth ! 
You have been meeting him for how long ? No one 
can say.” Miss Tyson shook her head as if the very 
depths of depravity had been reached. 

Betsy made no answer to all these charges. If she 
proclaimed her innocence, Miss Emily would not believe 
her in all probability, and, besides, had she not sworn 
in letters of blood that she would not reveal the secret ? 
Better be punished than be untruthful, she argued to 
herself. 

“ Who is this Fred?” again inquired Miss Emily. 
“ Answer me.” 


102 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“I’d like to tell you but I can’t,” replied Betsy 
sturdily. 

“You are trying to shield him, I see. Well, we 
shall find out what your Uncle Robert has to say about 
it. Gather up your books and go to your room. You 
do not leave it until this is cleared up.” 

Betsy silently obeyed. She would not tell; no, she 
would not. She was a proud little soul and made up 
her mind if her Aunt Emily could believe such charges 
against her, knowing what sort of girl she was, that 
she would suffer in silence. She would not betray 
even so innocent a secret. Boys were well enough as 
chums and playmates. She liked Hal’s friends and 
the brothers of her schoolmates very well, but that she 
could ever be so silly as to write notes to one of them 
was beyond possibility and Aunt Emily ought to know it. 

She marched along, head up, by Miss Tyson’s side 
and was formally ushered into her room, her aunt not 
loosing her hold upon her. “ I will give you half an 
hour in which to think this over,” said Miss Emily. 
“ At the end of that time if you do not confess I shall 
summon your uncle. I will not be defied in my own 
house; it is monstrous that you should be capable of 
intrigue. I certainly did not expect such light, brain¬ 
less conduct from one of my name.” With these words 
she left Betsy alone. 


FEED AND PHIL 


103 


So she was a silly, skittish, flighty piece, was she ? 
They did not know her any better than that. She 
would see what Uncle Eobert and Hal said. She 
knew, though all the world failed her, that her brother 
would stand by her, and in this thought there was 
comfort. 

In due time Miss Emily returned and tried to draw 
out the truth. At first she coaxed, then she insisted, 
and at last she became thoroughly angry. She had 
been disposed to give Betsy every chance and began 
the interview in quite a mild manner. “ Now, Betsy,’’ 
she began, “I want you to tell me what this is all 
about. Were you really going to meet somebody ? ” 

“ I really meant to, Aunt Emily, but there wasn’t 
any harm in it.” 

“ That may be, but I must have proof of it. Who is 
this Fred to whom you were writing ? ” 

“ I can’t tell you, Aunt Emily,” returned Betsy with 
an obstinate compression of her lips. 

“But you must. I insist that you do.” Miss Emily’s 
expression grew severe. 

Betsy shook her head. “ I can’t,” she repeated. “ I 
would if I could.” 

“ You mean, no doubt, that you have promised not 
to ; that makes no difference. A bad promise is better 
broken than kept; moreover I have a right to demand 


104 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


the truth from you. I am your guardian. Your uncle 
and I stand in the place of your parents, and we have 
a right to expect perfect obedience. When I command 
you to tell me you must do it.” 

“I couldn’t tell even my own parents,” persisted 
Betsy. “ All I can tell you is that there wasn’t a bit 
of harm in writing the notes. If you don’t believe me 
I can’t help it.” 

“ You are a perverse and disobedient child,” declared 
Miss Emily. “We shall see who is mistress in this 
house. Not one step do you take off this place till you 
have told me what I demand of you, though you remain 
here the rest of your days.” 

She went out leaving Betsy to await her uncle’s com¬ 
ing. The child did some hard thinking, but was quite 
as resolute in her determination. She was a Tyson, 
too, and she had a right to her own opinion just as 
much as Aunt Emily had, she said to herself. More¬ 
over, she had been declared guilty when she was really 
innocent. Her aunt had been ready to believe evil of 
her when she might have taken her word that there 
was no harm in what she was doing. Did her aunt 
think that she was a story-teller ? Why couldn’t she 
have believed in her ? Suppose it had been Elizabeth, 
did any one think that she, Betsy, could believe any¬ 
thing evil of Elizabeth ? Why, even that time in the 


FRED AM) PHIL 


105 


cave, she had not wavered in her loyalty, although for 
a while it did look as if her friend had deserted her. 
Just what Betsy had actually suffered upon that oc¬ 
casion not even Elizabeth knew, and it was certainly a 
strong proof of her devotion that she had accepted 
Elizabeth’s explanations with very little question. 
Betsy knew that her Aunt Emily was quite as de¬ 
termined a person as she was herself, and, while she 
made up her mind that she would not give in one inch, 
she was quite sure that her Aunt Emily was saying the 
same to herself. “ I suppose it means that I am to be 
a prisoner here for the rest of my life or at least while 
Aunt Emily lives,” thought Betsy. She began to con¬ 
sider what such a life might mean and wondered if 
they would allow Elizabeth to come to see her. In 
Elizabeth lay her only hope. Probably they would 
not permit her to write to any one, and she would have 
to resort to secret means as other prisoners did. 

In the midst of these cogitations she heard Hal’s foot 
upon the stair, bounding up three steps at a time. He 
burst into the room and came over to the window 
where Betsy was. “ What’s all this nonsense about ? ” 
he said. 

“ That’s just what it is,” returned Betsy with de¬ 
cision ; “ all nonsense.” 

“Exactly what I thought. Come here and tell 


106 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

me all about it.” He pulled her down upon his 
lap. 

“There isn’t very much to tell except that I was 
writing a note after school and Aunt Emily came up 
and grabbed' it away before I had finished. Then she 
would read it and went off and told Uncle Robert I 
had been writing to a boy.” 

“ A boy named Fred, Aunt Em says. Who in the 
world is he, Bets ? I can’t think of any one but old 
Fred Skinner.” They both laughed, for old Fred 
Skinner was the one-legged man who did such odd jobs 
as he could get in the neighborhood. 

Hal’s treatment of the affair as a joke raised Betsy’s 
spirits somewhat. “How well you guessed,” she re¬ 
plied ; “ of course it is he.” 

“ Honest, though, Bets, aren’t you going to tell ? ” 
asked Hal more seriously. 

Betsy shook her head. 

“ Never ? ” 

Another and more decided shake. 

“ Well, you are as pig-headed as a mule,” commented 
Hal. 

“ Mules don’t have pig heads,” returned Betsy trying 
to turn the subject. 

“Here, you needn’t try to put me off that way. 
You’re going to tell your old Brud, aren’t you ? If the 


PEED AND PHIL 


107 


fellow knew, be would be a pretty mean sort of chap to 
keep you to your word, no matter what you promised. 
If he’s half a man he’ll come and face the music- I’ll 
see to it that it gets noised around.” 

“Harold Tyson, you don’t mean to say that you 
really believe I’m that kind of girl.” Betsy drew 
away. 

“ I’ll believe anything you tell me because I know 
you’re good stuff all the way through and a fellow can 
bank on your word; you’ve never gone back on it in 
all the time I’ve known you.” 

“ Then if I tell you that I wasn’t doing anything at 
all, that it was just a sort of play you will believe it. 
I can’t tell who Fred is because I’ve promised I 
wouldn’t.” 

“ All right; I take your word for it, but I’d advise 
you to tell, for Aunt Em is pretty mad at what she calls 
your stubborn spirit and you know she isn’t going to let 
up on you till you own up.” 

Betsy sighed. “ I’m sorry, but I can’t tell.” 

“ Well, I must say I admire your grit and whoever 
you’ve promised had better not come my way if he 
knows what is good for him. Cheer up, old girl, I’ll 
see you through.” With these words he left her. 

Betsy felt happier because of her brother’s confidence 
in her, but it did seem most unfortunate that of all times 


108 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Elizabeth should happen to be away that morning. 
There would have been no need of the note otherwise. 
Why did things always happen that way, she won¬ 
dered. Then she heard her uncle’s voice on the stair¬ 
way and she sat up to meet him. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HIS HONOR 


“TI TELL, poppet, what’s the trouble now?” was 

V V Mr. Tyson’s first question. “ It seems to me 
you’ve been getting into hot water entirely too often of 
late. First you are carried off to a cave and now come 
clandestine meetings with unknown Freds. Now, I 
want you to know that neither your Aunt Emily nor I 
object in the least to your having boy friends; I know 
I used to have girl friends when I was a schoolboy, and 
I think they did me good, but clandestine meetings 
with some one we never heard of, that is another thing.” 

“ What is clandestine ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ It means secret. When you won’t tell even Hal 
there is something decidedly queer.” 

“ But, Uncle Rob, you wouldn’t have me break a 
sacred compact, would you ? I heard you talking to 
Hal the other night about that very thing and you told 
him that if any one made a contract he must abide by 
it. I made a solemn compact that I wouldn’t tell and 
I would be telling a story if I did.” 

Mr. Tyson considered this for a few minutes before 
109 


110 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


he answered. “ From your point of view you are right,” 
he said at last. “ One should never go back on one’s 
word if it can be avoided, but there is this way out of 
it; the other person can be consulted, and the contract 
can be broken, at least it can be destroyed by mutual 
consent. Now, I advise you to do just that thing. 
Tell your friend that he must make himself known.” 

A queer little smile played around Betsy’s mouth, 
but she did not say anything. 

“ You will do that, won’t you ?” her uncle went on. 
“ Tell him the state of affairs and that you want to 
have your contract annulled. If he is the right sort of 
boy he will want to spare you any further distress, and 
if he isn’t the right sort the sooner you drop him the 
better; I am sure you see that.” 

“ Oh, yes, I see that,” returned Betsy. “ May I 
write, Uncle Kob ? ” 

“ Why, yes, I think that would be better than a per¬ 
sonal interview. You’d better do it as soon as possible 
so that you may get back into your aunt’s good graces. 
She is pretty well put out and won’t give in soon, I 
imagine. Do you want to write at once and let me 
post your letter for you ? ” 

“ Then you would know,” said Betsy with a shrewd 
little smile. 

Her uncle laughed. “ I didn’t think of that, upon 


HIS HONOR 


111 


my honor, I didn’t, Betsy. If you say so, I will give 
you my word as a gentleman not to look at the ad¬ 
dress.” 

Betsy hardly knew just what to say to this, for her 
intention was to write her note, slip out the back way 
and hide it under a stone in a certain spot which she 
and Elizabeth called their post-office. “ If you don’t 
mind I’ll take it myself,” she said after a pause. “ Of 
course I trust you, Uncle Rob,” she added quickly, 
“ but you see I shall not take it to the regular post- 
office.” 

“ Oh, I see. You are a romantic little body, Betsy 
—almost as much so as Elizabeth. Has she a secret 
correspondent, too ? I haven’t a doubt but she has and 
that she has put you up to this.” 

“ You wouldn’t expect me to tell you if it were true,” 
returned Betsy, not to be caught in this way. 

“ No, but I think her parents should know if it is so, 
for they would not approve of such doings any more 
than we do.” 

Betsy made no reply. The affair was beginning to 
have a very amusing aspect, and she had too keen a 
sense of humor not to enjoy that side of it. She knew 
Elizabeth would prefer that she should write a note, 
and later they could talk over the affair together. As 
soon as Elizabeth knew, of course she would see that 


112 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

there was nothing to do but annul the compact. Betsy 
liked the word annul,—it sounded important and legal, 
—so she determined to use it in her note. 

While she was writing it her uncle was down-stairs 
talking to Miss Emily. “ I wouldn’t worry over it,” he 
told her. “ I think it is probably a very innocent piece 
of romantic nonsense. There is no reason why Betsy 
shouldn’t have boy, as well as girl, friends, and if this 
is the right sort of chap he won’t allow her to cherish 
the secret. He must be some one who is visiting in the 
neighborhood, I fancy. Betsy has promised to write him 
a note, and we shall soon find out all about it, I believe. 
I wouldn’t interfere with her goings and comings, Aunt 
Emily. It is better not to attach too much importance 
to the matter.” 

Thus advised Miss Emily did not interfere with Betsy 
when she came down with the note in her hand. “ Do 
you mind if I go out for a little while ? ” asked the 
child shyly. 

“ No, I do not mind, but I must request that you 
do not leave the place,” returned Miss Emily with 
dignity. She had not yet recovered her equilibrium, 
and Betsy felt that it was as her uncle said ; she was not 
in her aunt’s good graces. 

She went down through the garden, out the back 
gate, and on to the trysting tree near the stone under 


HIS HONOE 


113 


which she must place her letter. Very likely Elizabeth 
had been there before her and must have been disap¬ 
pointed at receiving no answer to her note of the morn¬ 
ing. Before sealing the envelope which held her own 
note Betsy read over the words she had written, which 
were as follows: 


Dearest Fred : 

All is discovered. I am in disgrace. Aunt Em 
and Uncle E. think I have been corresponding with 
a boy and she is furious. I must beg you to con¬ 
sent to saving me. Uncle Bob says if Fred is willing 
we can annul the contract and it will not be dishonor¬ 
able. I have not had a chance to answer your note for 
when I was doing it after school Aunt E. came up 
and discovered what I was doing. She demanded to 
know who I was writing to but I kept our secret in 
violet. I am willing to keep it always if you think I 
must. Please let me know what to do as soon as you 
can. 

Your despairing Phil. 

Contrary to her hopes there was no note under the 
stone. Probably Elizabeth had been there and, not 
finding any communication from Betsy, had gone away. 
There was nothing to do now but wait till the next day. 
Meantime she would spend her time as usual—work a 
little while in her garden, go in and prepare for supper, 
take the evening meal, study her lessons; she wondered 
if she need study her lessons. Had not Aunt Emily 


114 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

said that she could not leave the place till everything 
was made right ? 

She pulled up weeds faithfully for half an hour and 
then went in. Miss Emily did not notice her as she 
passed by, and rather than face this condition of affairs 
a second time Betsy waited till supper was announced 
before she came down again. At table Miss Emily was 
coldly polite, Uncle Robert was just as usual, and Hal 
more than usually attentive. After supper it was the 
general custom that Hal and Betsy should take their 
books to the sitting-room while Miss Emily sat in state 
in the drawing-room, Uncle Robert retired to his den 
for a smoke, or else went down to his office. As they 
all left the table Betsy hesitated. 

“ Aren’t you coming ? ” said Hal over his shoulder. 

Betsy looked doubtfully at her aunt. “ I don’t 
know whether I shall need to study my lessons,” she 
said. 

“ There is no reason why you should not study them 
even if you do not go to school,” remarked Miss Emily. 
“ You would much better spend your time sensibly than 
in hatching up nonsense.” 

Betsy gathered up her books and followed her 
brother. “ How goes it, old girl ? ” he asked as they 
settled down to their work. 

“ Oh, all right,” returned Betsy. “ Nobody is very 


HIS HONOR 


115 


cross except Aunt Emily. TJncle Robert was as nice as 
could be. I have taken his advice and have written a 
note.” 

“ Good ! Then to-morrow it will all be cleared up, I 
hope.” And Hal turned to his books, satisfied that 
there was not much to worry over. 

However, the secret was out before the next day. 
Elizabeth had discovered the note of appeal only a 
little while after Betsy had placed it under the stone. 
She had a new scheme which she wanted to talk over 
with Betsy and hoped that she should find a word from 
her explaining why she had not kept the tryst. What 
she did find was enough to make her hurry home, and 
off in a corner by herself to think over the matter. 
Betsy was again in trouble. “ O dear,” sighed Eliza¬ 
beth, “we can’t have any fun at all but some one 
comes along and spoils it. It will never do to let Betsy 
be unhappy any longer than I can help. Of course we 
must annul the compact.” She sat down to consider 
the quickest and surest way of accomplishing this and 
in a few minutes had determined what to do. She 
would write a note to Mr. Tyson, enclose her compact 
and tell him to annul it. She didn’t know what was 
the quickest and most formal way of annulling, but he 
would know and could attend to it without delay. 
She hesitated a short time before she decided how to 


116 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


address Mr. Tyson. This must be a very businesslike 
note and he must realize that it was so. Finally she 
accomplished what she thought was a most acceptable 
document. She hunted up the largest envelope she 
could find, sealed it with a huge red seal and rushed off 
down town in haste to get back before supper time. 
Finding the door of Mr. Tyson’s office locked, she 
slipped the envelope under it and went off. 

Therefore, when Mr. Tyson entered the place his foot 
kicked against the bulky note which he picked up as 
soon as he had switched on the light. He looked at 
the childish handwriting, smiled when he saw the 
splashy seal, and tore the envelope open. Two large 
sheets of paper, folded rather unevenly, met his view. 
One was written in red and was signed: “ Phillippa; 
alias Betsy. Frederika; alias Elizabeth.” The smile 
broadened as the young man read the page, and when 
he had finished the second sheet he laughed outright. 
“ What a ridiculous little soul it is,” he said. “ This is 
rich; I must keep it among my archives.” He pe¬ 
rused the page a second time. It read : 

Honorable Robert Tyson, 

Your Honor :—May it please the court to an¬ 
nul the compact. We did not know it was going to 
get Betsy into trouble. If she is suffering from dis¬ 
grace will you please release her from the persecutions. 


HIS HONOR 117 

I know you can do this all right, your Honor, because 
you are a lawyer. 

Your respected client, 

Elizabeth Hollins. 

P. S. Please don’t let the sun go down upon Miss 
Emily’s wrath, so that Betsy can sleep trank willy. I 
fain would sleep too. 

“ Let no ill dreams disturb my rest 
Nor powers of darkness me molest.” 

E. H. 

Mr. Tyson laid the papers on his desk and went to 
the telephone. Presently Hal, in the sitting-room, 
heard the call and went to answer it. 

“ Is that you, Hal ? ” came the question. 

“ Yes, Uncle Rob.” 

“ Can you bring Betsy down here ? We have solved 
her difficulty. What ? Oh, never mind who. I will 
tell you when you come. Yes, right away.” 

Hal turned to his sister. “ Uncle Rob wants me to 
bring you to his office. He says he has discovered 
your secret.” 

“He has?” Betsy sprang to her feet. “I am so 
glad. I knew she would.” 

Hal looked at her a little at a loss to know what she 
meant, but he was willing to wait to have the mystery 
cleared and asked no questions. 


118 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Betsy rushed up-stairs to get her coat while her 
brother told his aunt what had just occurred. She 
made no comment beyond saying, “Very well. If 
Robert wants her I have no objection to her going.” 

When the two reached the office Mr. Tyson was 
talking over the ’phone. “ Just sit down,” he told his 
niece and nephew. “ I’m calling up the party of the 
first part.” 

This was all Greek to Betsy, but she sat down as 
directed. In a moment Mr. Tyson hung up the re¬ 
ceiver. “ She’ll be here in a minute, Betsy,” he said. 
“ Dick will bring her down. We are going to do up 
this thing in proper legal form. Here, Hal, what do 
you think of that?” He handed the two papers to 
Hal, who after reading them burst into a roar of laugh¬ 
ter, and then began to pound Betsy. 

“ You little old fraud,” he cried, a you fooled us 
good, didn’t you ? I say, Uncle Rob, weren’t we muts 
not to guess that Elizabeth was at the bottom of it ? ” 

“ I suspected she had something to do with it,” he 
replied, “ although I really didn’t suspect that she was 
the gentleman him- or, rather, herself.” 

“ But why in red ink ? ” asked Hal after scrutinizing 
the paper a second time. 

“ Because,” replied Betsy gravely, “ it would take too 
much blood to do the whole thing.” 


HIS HONOR 


119 


“ Blood ? What does the child mean, Uncle Rob ? ” 

His uncle took the paper into his own hands and 
examined it. “ Look at the signature,” he said. “ I 
believe the little witches have actually signed it with 
true-blue blood.” 

“Yes, we did,” Betsy told him. “We pricked our 
fingers; it was very easy, but we couldn’t keep on 
pricking. We made two compacts. I have the one 
Elizabeth signed first. Do you need it, Uncle Rob, to 
annul it ? ” 

“You can give it to me when we get home; that 
will be time enough. Here comes Elizabeth. You 
can stay with Dick, Hal, and be witness to this solemn 
performance.” 

Elizabeth came in quite pale and excited. “0 
Betsy,” she cried, catching sight of her friend. “We 
never dreamed that anything so awful would result, 
did we ? Good-evening, your Honor. Are you going 
to annul now ? ” 

“ Yes, Miss Hollins,” replied Mr. Tyson with much 
formality. “Will you stand there, please? Betsy, 
will you stand opposite ? That is it. Elizabeth Hol¬ 
lins, do you in the presence of these witnesses assert 
that it is your desire to annul the compact which I 
hold in my hand ? ” He spread out the document so 
that Elizabeth could see. 


120 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ I do,” replied Elizabeth tremblingly and feeling as 
if nothing less than a marriage ceremony could be so 
great an ordeal. 

Mr. Tyson turned to Betsy. “ Betsy Tyson, do you 
of your own free will, in the presence of these witnesses, 
assert that it is your desire to annul the compact I have 
just referred to ? ” 

“ Yes, I do,” answered Betsy, but with less show of 
excitement. 

“ Then,” continued Mr. Tyson, “ I declare that the 
compact is legally annulled. Being signed in so pecu¬ 
liar a way it should be under consideration for a longer 
time, but under the peculiar circumstances of the case 
we will waive further examination. You are free to 
go, Miss Hollins.” He bowed again formally. 

Elizabeth hesitated. “ Thank you very much,” she 
said ; then as an afterthought: “ Isn’t there something 
to pay ? ” 

“ I will send you my bill later,” returned Mr. Tyson. 

Betsy regarded her uncle earnestly. She could not 
be quite sure how much he was really in earnest. He 
had been so very grave and impressive that perhaps it 
was truly an affair of more seriousness than she had 
supposed. She turned to Elizabeth with a consoling 
whisper. “ I don’t believe he will send a bill at all. 
He is doing it for me more than for you.” 


HIS HONOR 


121 


Elizabeth gave her a hug. “ O Betsy,” she an¬ 
swered, “ I am so glad it is all over.” 

They went out after shaking hands with Mr. Tyson. 
Hal and Dick, almost choking with laughter, followed 
them. “ I didn’t know your uncle was such a sport,” 
whispered Dick. 

“ He certainly gave them all they were looking for,” 
returned Hal. “It was as good as a play, but they 
deserved all that and more, the little monkeys, to get 
us all so worked up over nothing. I wonder how Aunt 
Em will take it.” 

He had already explained the situation to Dick, and 
the two had resolved to “ give that Fred something to 
remember.” The memory of this threat came back to 
them now. 

“ Which of us is going to begin on Fred ? ” asked 
Dick. 

“ Ah, come off,” cried Hal. “ You can ; I won’t.” 

By this time they had reached the brick house where 
Betsy and Hal went in while Elizabeth continued her 
way with Dick. 

Miss Emily, daintily dressed, her gray hair carefully 
arranged, was waiting with more anxiety than she 
cared to express. She did not rise from her Morris 
chair, but she laid down her knitting as the children 
entered. 


122 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Prepare yourself for a good joke, Aunt Em,” said 
Hal. 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Miss Emily. Of the 
two her preference was for her nephew, who was much 
like the father he had lost. 

“ I mean that the Fred we. have been so alarmed 
about was nobody more nor less than Elizabeth Hol¬ 
lins.” 

“ Why, Hal, what do you mean ? ” exclaimed Miss 
Emily. 

As Betsy had rushed up-stairs to burrow in her desk 
and get the compact she had carefully put away, 
Harold had a chance to enlarge upon the scene which 
had just taken place, and made such an amusing story 
of it that Miss Emily was laughing heartily when 
Betsy reappeared. “ Go back to your lessons, child,” 
she said in a cheerful voice. “ I think you will be 
called upon to recite them at school to-morrow.” And 
Betsy knew that she was back in Aunt Em’s good 
graces. 


CHAPTER IX 


ELIZABETH WRITES POETRY 

I T was well for Betsy that her aunt’s sense of humor 
saved the situation. The subject of Fred was 
dropped, Betsy went back to school, and all went on 
serenely. The school year was drawing to a close and 
the three friends discussed the future over their lunch 
baskets. “ Grandma says I shall go to Miss Dunbar as 
long as possible,” remarked Bess. “ I would rather do 
that than go to boarding-school, and the girls at the 
Academy have to study ever so much harder than we 
do, so I reckon I don’t care.” 

“You don’t mean to say, Bess Ferguson, that if we 
went to the Academy you would rather be left here in 
this poky place,” said Elizabeth. 

“ Oh, I don’t suppose I would rather, for I should 

miss you awfully, but-” 

“ Bess isn’t keen about the study,” put in Betsy. 

“ That’s just what I am keen about,” declared Eliza¬ 
beth. “ I want to know, oh, everything. When I 
hear Lillie Paine tell about what she learns at the 
Academy it makes me wild to go. I don’t believe I 

could stand it if I don’t go next year.” 

123 


124 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ But wouldn’t it be dreadful if you should go there 
and I should be sent to boarding-school and Bess 
stayed here?” put in Betsy. “ What a scatteration 
there would be. I should be most unhappy, I am sure.” 

“ Don’t let’s talk about such a possibility,” returned 
Elizabeth. “ I like to think that things will happen as 
I want them to, then if they turn out the other way, I 
don’t have to be unhappy twice. Father told me once 
that was the way to be an ocumist,—no, that wasn’t the 
word, but it was something like it. It means a person 
who looks on the bright side.” 

“ It’s getting too warm for jelly, isn’t it ? ” said Bess, 
who did not care to prolong this subject, and who found 
the contents of her lunch basket much more entertain¬ 
ing. “ I have a lovely new white frock, girls, and what 
do you think ? Mother and I may go to the seashore this 
summer. I am to have a lot of new things and we 
shall stay at a hotel.” 

“ Really ? ” This was a prospect that neither of the 
others could look forward to, and Bess felt that her an¬ 
nouncement had made the impression she had hoped it 
would. 

“ I wonder how it would be at a hotel,” said Eliza¬ 
beth after a moment devoted to the consumption of a 
square of gingerbread. “ I don’t much believe I should 
like it. I suppose you have to keep dressed up all the 


ELIZABETH WRITES POETRY 125 

time. I’d hate that. I shouldn’t mind it once in a 
while, maybe, in fact, for once in my life I’d like to be 
dressed in silk from my skin out, but I shouldn’t care 
for it except on occasions.” 

“ I’d love it all the time,” Bess confessed. “ I’d 
like to have a lady’s maid and be dressed up every 
minute.” 

“ I shouldn’t mind being a high-born lady for a while,” 
continued Elizabeth brushing off the crumbs from her 
lap. “ I should like to be a queen for a week and the 
next week I’d like to be a beggar just to see how it 
felt.” 

“ 0 Elizabeth, not a real beggar in rags.” Bess was 
horrified. 

“ Yes, in rags. I should like to be a gypsy and sleep 
out in the fields and live a wild life, but I shouldn’t 
want to keep it up forever. I should like to try being 
all sorts and then I could make up my mind which I 
liked best. I suppose,” she added wisely, “ that after 
all I would say: ‘ I will come back to my native village 
to live and die among the friends of my youth. I re¬ 
nounce the grandeur of courts and will reside in the 
simple cot of my fathers.’ ” 

“ I don’t think it is such a very simple cot,” re¬ 
marked Bess. “ It is quite a large house, not so big as 
ours or the Tysons’, perhaps, but it isn’t really a cot.” 


126 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I was speaking metaphorically,” returned Elizabeth 
with dignity, and the grandness of the word silenced 
Bess, who hadn’t an idea what it meant. Elizabeth 
had heard Dick use it upon several occasions and had 
taken it into her own vocabulary. 

There had been more than one visit to examine the 
robin’s nest. The first visit disclosed the fact that Mrs. 
Bobin had returned and had laid another egg. In due 
course of time there was a nestful of hungry fledglings. 
The girls had decided that in the fall when the nest was 
actually deserted they would go back and get it. Bess 
claimed it as being upon her grandmother’s ground, but 
finally had been induced to say that she would exchange 
it for something else if a sufficiently fascinating offer 
was made. Such an arrangement had been made be¬ 
fore when something ornamental or some specially 
delectable dainty appealed to Bess more than the thing 
which she was asked to barter. Indeed Elizabeth 
and Betsy were in the habit of hoarding certain 
things which they did not value, in order that they 
might make a satisfactory swap with Bess when the 
time came. Once in a while when Elizabeth wanted 
some possession of Bess’s very much she would offer to 
help her with her arithmetic, a study which Bess 
particularly abhorred and in which she constantly 
failed, 


ELIZABETH WRITES POETRY 


127 


“ Why should I wear myself out over it ? ” she would 
say. “ I never expect to keep a store. My husband 
will see to all such things anyway.” 

“ Suppose you don’t have a husband,” Elizabeth 
would argue. “ Miss Tyson hasn’t one.” 

“ Oh, but I mean to have,” Bess spoke with convic¬ 
tion. “ Why, I have heard Miss Emily herself say that 
any one could get a husband.” 

“ I wonder why she didn’t do it then ? ” said Eliza¬ 
beth. “ I suppose she didn’t want one, or, maybe ”— 
Elizabeth’s imagination was off on wings—“ she may 
have had an unhappy love affair. But, Bess, you 
might have a husband and he might die and leave you 
to a life of grinding poverty and then what would you 
do ? ” 

“ O dear! ” This was sufficient to startle Bess to 
ambitious effort and she would willingly give Elizabeth 
the paper doll she wanted if she would help her to pre¬ 
pare the next day’s lesson. 

At the final examinations Elizabeth, as usual, came 
off with flying colors. Betsy showed a good record 
and Bess managed, as she admitted, “to skin through.” 
But for Elizabeth’s help she would hardly have done 
this, but this bright young person could not see her 
t6 second best ” drop back into a lower class, and she 
labored with her early and late that she might not fail. 


128 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


Bess despised the hard work this involved, but she was 
grateful, for she had some pride, and also did she dearly 
love her mother whose disappointment and chagrin 
would have been great if Bess had failed to come up to 
the mark. Moreover, she knew, down in the depths of 
her heart, that the possibilities of that trip to the sea¬ 
shore depended mainly upon her standing at school. 
Her grandmother had promised that she should go if 
she passed her examinations. 

An old-fashioned commencement marked the close of 
school. The children recited “ pieces ” and dialogues. 
One of the performances came near to being an entire 
failure on account of Babs, who was so amused at 
Betsy’s appearance that her mirth set Betsy into a state 
of giggles which nearly prevented her from reciting 
her lines. A number of girls were chosen to represent 
the different nations, and Betsy as an Indian with a 
doll, for a papoose, strapped to her back was too much 
for Babs. Elizabeth as a Russian felt her furs rather 
uncomfortably warm, but did her part so well that she 
received more applause than any of the others. Bess 
reveled in her elaborate Turkish costume, but spoke so 
indistinctly and in such a flat singsong that she could 
scarcely be understood. There were songs, too. Bert 
roared forth something about being a youth who wished 
to see the world, and rose on his tiptoes to reach the 


ELIZABETH WHITES POETEY 


129 


high notes while the chorus in agreeing that his story 
was 44 as true, as true as a gun ” wagged their heads 
emphatically as they entreated him to 44 go on, go on, 
till the tale is done.” Then the minister made an ad¬ 
dress, and Mr. Eobert Tyson made another. The 
whole audience joined in singing “ My country, ’tis of 
thee,” and that was the end. Dick and Hal could not 
be present, much to their sisters’ disappointment, for 
they could not give up the picnic given by the Academy 
on the same day. 

“ It would have been a great deal nicer if we could 
have had a picnic,” said Elizabeth. “ I don’t think 
much of such a commencement as ours.” 

“ O Elizabeth, and you had two prizes,” said Bess en¬ 
viously. 

“ Such prizes as they are. You can have them if you 
like. Who wants such baby books as 4 Little Annie ’ 
and 4 Mother’s Lump of Sugar,’ or whatever the other 
one is.” 

Such contempt was beyond Bess’s comprehension. 
44 1 shouldn’t mind what was in the books so long as 
they were prizes,” she told Elizabeth. 

44 Well, see that you get the likes next year,” re¬ 
marked the holder of the prizes. 

Elizabeth and Betsy had many plans for the next 
year. There was talk of sending Betsy to boarding- 


130 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


school. Miss Emily was examining circulars and was 
making inquiries in various directions. “ Hal would be 
going to college, and it was time that Betsy’s education 
should be considered more seriously,” declared Miss 
Emily. “ If Hal were to continue at the Academy I 
should send Betsy there, but with no better arrange¬ 
ments for a conveyance than we have I shall not con¬ 
sider it.” 

Betsy reported this remark to Elizabeth. “ So that 
hope is gone,” she said. “ Have you any idea what 
they are going to do with you ? ” she asked Elizabeth. 

“ I think it will depend upon whether there is a new 
teacher or not. If Miss Dunbar stays, even father says 
I shall not go. They are waiting to decide. Father 
thinks it is dreadful to put Miss Dunbar out after all 
these years ; they say it will break her heart.” 

“ Humph ! ” scoffed Betsy. “ I don’t believe she has 
any heart.” 

“ Oh, I do wish we had an automobile,” said Eliza¬ 
beth fervently, for the hundredth time. “ I asked fa¬ 
ther the other day if he had one could he afford to run 
it, and he said he thought he could; but the thing is the 
getting it. I have racked my brains for a plan to get 
one. I have read over all the articles that tell how 
girls can make money, but there isn’t one that seems 
possible. I couldn’t open a tea-house, for I haven’t the 


ELIZABETH WRITES POETRY 


131 


money to buy even the tea. I can’t put up savory 
luncheons for college girls because there isn’t any col¬ 
lege here. I can’t make pies and take them to the 
trains to sell, because it is as far to the trains as it is to 
the Academy. I have tried to write a story for the 
magazines, but when I read it to mother she was afraid 
it would not do because I had laid the scene in Atlantic 
city in the days of Queen Elizabeth. I might change 
the place to England, I suppose, but even then I don’t 
believe it would do because I am not sure about Eng¬ 
land, as I have never been there.” 

Betsy listened to all this very interestedly. She was 
quite sure that Elizabeth could write an acceptable 
story if she made another effort. “You do think of 
such wonderful things,” she declared ; “lam sure you 
could do it.” 

Elizabeth sighed. “I have written some poetry,” 
she confessed, “ but I heard some one say that poetry is 
very poorly paid.” 

“ Oh, won’t you let me see it ? ” begged Betsy. 

Elizabeth hesitated. “ You won’t laugh,” she said. 

“ O Elizabeth, do I ever laugh at things like that ? ” 

“Well, no, but then I have never showed you any 
poetry of mine.” 

“Is it the funny kind?” asked Betsy, “I might 
have to laugh if it is very amusing.” 


132 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Oh, no, it isn’t that kind at all; it is quite sad,” 

“ I should love it, I know,” Betsy assured her. 

After some coaxing Elizabeth consented to get the 
book in which she had written the lines, and the pair 
returned to the orchard where they had been sitting. 
It was too warm in the attic these days. Elizabeth 
turned over the pages, but hesitated before beginning 
to read. “ You’re sure you won’t laugh,” she re¬ 
peated. 

“ I won’t. Cross my heart I won’t,” Betsy promised. 

Elizabeth gave an excited little giggle, then com¬ 
posed herself and read dramatically, giving much 
emphasis to the words and quavering her voice at the 
most pathetic parts. “ It is called ‘ The Knight’s Re¬ 
venge,’ ” she announced. 

u There was a knight said to a lady 
Pray let me linger by your side. 

Pd like to seek a spot where it is shady 
So I might woo you for my beauteous bride. 

The lady, alas, was both proud and haughty 
A prince at least she dreamed that she would wed 
She would not give a simple knight a single 
thoughtie — 

That is Scotch, you know,” explained Elizabeth; “ it 
means a little thought. The scene is laid in Scotland. 
Where was I ? Oh, yes. 


ELIZABETH WRITES POETRY 


133 


u She looked much higher than his head. 

The poor sad knight in war was killed. 

The lady married a lord of high degree 
Alas, he was so cold that she was chilled 
Thus had the knight his full revenge, you see.” 

“ O Elizabeth, I think it is beautiful! ” exclaimed 
Betsy admiringly. “ I don’t see how you thought of 
words that would rhyme. I could never do it. I do 
hope you will publish it.” 

“ Perhaps I shall some day,” returned Elizabeth in 
perfect good faith. “ Now let’s talk about a way to 
get the automobile. You see nothing I have thought 
of will be of the slightest use, for we must have several 
hundred dollars even if we get one second-hand, which 
is all we could expect. I read over all the advertise¬ 
ments in the daily paper so as to find out what is the 
least we can get one for. I ask every one, nearly, this 
question: 6 If you wanted to earn a thousand dollars, 
how would you do it ? ’ So far nobody has been able 
to tell me, but I keep on hoping that I will strike the 
right person after a while.” 

“ I think that is a very good plan,” Betsy approved. 
“ I think I will do that too. I will begin with Uncle 
Rob to-night.” 

“ O dear, I asked him long ago,” Elizabeth informed 
her. 


134 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ What did he say ? ” 

“ Oh, he just joked about it. He said, 4 1 think it 
would be a paying investment if I looked up persons 
who had contracts to annul.’ I must say, Betsy, I 
thought that a little mean of him when I have never 
paid him for that business.” 

44 He has never asked you to, of course.” 

44 All the same he might send in his bill any day and 
I should be very much mortified if I hadn’t the money 
to pay it at once, especially after what he said.” 

Betsy determined to interview her uncle on the sub¬ 
ject that she might set Elizabeth’s mind at rest. She 
had her own private opinion, but it would be as well to 
be sure. 

44 1 am going to Cousin Belle’s to-morrow,” said 
Elizabeth as the two friends parted at the gate. 44 1 
shall have a chance to ask a lot of new people while I 
am there and maybe I shall come back with a splendid 
plan. Don’t you hope I shall, Betsy ? ” 

Betsy certainly did hope so and gave her promise 
that she would make inquiries, too, while Elizabeth was 
away, as who knew what might happen before the day 
after to-morrow when they should meet again ? 


CHAPTER X 


BETSY HEAES NEWS 


E LIZABETH did not go very often to her Cousin 
Belle Gilmore’s, for her home was rather hard to 
reach from Brookdale unless one had a motor car; 
then one need not be under the necessity of driving to 
the station and of changing cars at the junction. It 
was only within the past year that Cousin Belle had 
possessed an automobile of her own, and once in a 
while she would send it over to Brookdale to bring 
back some of the cousins. This time it was Elizabeth’s 
turn to go, and she meant to make the most of her 
visit. 

Ruth was on the lookout for her and bore her off at 
once to look at her white rabbits. Elizabeth admired 
the little red-eyed hopping creatures and wished she 
might have a pair. “ Where did you get them ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Grandpa gave them to me,” Ruth told her. 

“ Is that the grandfather who gave you all the auto¬ 
mobile ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“Yes, and he is always giving us something. I 
135 


136 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

shouldn’t wonder if he gave us a house next; he doesn’t 
like this one.” 

“ He must be very generous,” said Elizabeth. “ I 
wish I had a grandfather like that. Is he very very 
old, Ruth?” 

“ He is pretty old,” returned Ruth, “ and he is nearly 
blind. You will see him after a while, for he is stay¬ 
ing with us.” 

“ Oh, is he ? ” Elizabeth was pleased. A person who 
could do such mighty things as to give away automo¬ 
biles and houses surely would be an authority upon the 
best way to make money. She resolved at once that 
she would put her question to him as soon as she had an 
opportunity, and this was afforded her before very long. 

Mr. Gilmore was sitting on the porch when the two 
girls returned to the house. He was a tall, spare old 
gentleman with white hair. He wore a green shade 
over his eyes and sat with his back to the light. 

Ruth brought Elizabeth up to him. “ This is my 
cousin, Elizabeth Hollins,” she said. 

Mr. Gilmore held out his hand. “ Come here, dear,” 
he said. “ I want to see if you look like your mother, if 
my poor old eyes will let me. I remember her at my 
son’s wedding; she was one of the sweetest women there. 
1 was glad to meet her again to-day.” 

He drew Elizabeth closer and peered into her face 


BETSY HEARS NEWS 


137 


with his dim eyes. “ I can’t see very well,” he sighed, 
“ but I fancy there is a little resemblance. What color 
are your eyes ? ” 

“ A sort of hazel, I believe,” Elizabeth told him. 

“ To match your auburn hair ; I can see the color of 
that. Well, my dear, I hope you may grow up to be as 
fine a woman as your mother.” 

“ How long has it been since you saw her, I mean be¬ 
fore to-day ? ” asked Ruth. 

“ Why, let me see. It must be thirteen or fourteen 
years. I have been living in California about as long 
as that. We went out just after Tom’s marriage, I re¬ 
member, and I have only made one or two flying trips 
East since.” 

“ Are you going to live here now ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ If I can find the place that suits me.” 

“ Grandfather is going to live with us always,” an¬ 
nounced Ruth with satisfaction. 

“ Who said so ? ” asked Mr. Gilmore smiling. 

“ Father and mother both,” returned Ruth. 

Mr. Gilmore patted her hand. “ We shall see about 
it,” he returned. 

“ I wish you would come over our way,” put in Eliza¬ 
beth. “ It is ever so much prettier over there, isn’t it, 
Ruth ? Mother is always wishing Cousin Belle lived 
near us. Wouldn’t it be fine, Ruth, if we could both go 


138 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


to the same school ? I am so anxious to go to the 
Academy next year.” 

“ And why can’t you ? ” asked Mr. Gilmore. 

“ Because it would be so difficult to get me there. 
Father oould not spare a horse every day, and it is al¬ 
most too far to walk. Dick goes on his wheel when 
the weather is pleasant, and in winter he and Hal 
Tyson go in the dog-cart with the Paine boys.” 

“ I see. Do you like to go to school ? ” 

“ I like it pretty well, but Miss Dunbar doesn’t make 
it very interesting. There is so much I want to know 
and she won’t stop to tell me as we go along. At the 
Academy they have such fine teachers.” 

“ Elizabeth got two prizes,” chimed in Ruth. “ One 
was for the highest record in school, and the other was 
for English.” 

“ That sounds well,” said Mr. Gilmore. 

Elizabeth felt that this was the moment to put her 
question. 

“If you wanted to make a thousand dollars, how 
would you go about it ? ” she asked. 

“ Is that a conundrum ? ” asked Mr. Gilmore. 

“No, it is just a plain question.” 

Mr. Gilmore laughed. “Well, my child, I think I 
should have to study the stock market pretty closely to 
begin with.” 


BETSY HEARS NEWS 139 

Elizabeth hadn’t the least idea what he meant so she 
kept silent. 

“ Why do you want to know ? ” inquired the old gen¬ 
tleman. 

“ I want so very, very much to make money enough 
to buy an automobile. I asked father if he could afford 
to run it if he had one, and he said ‘Yes.’ You see, if 
we did have one we could all go together to school— 
Betsy Tyson and Bess Ferguson and I,—and it would 
solute the difficulty so very well. I have thought of a 
hundred plans, but none of them work. Betsy said if 
we began right away we might make a little money at 
a time, and after a while we might have enough. We 
are going to give an entertainment, maybe. Will you 
come to it and bring Ruth ? ” 

“ It would give me the greatest pleasure. When is it 
to be ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know when. We haven’t even decided 
what it shall be, but I think it will be tableaux. We 
are divided between those and a fair. Either one will 
take a long time to get up. If we have tableaux, we 
shall have to have costumes and write out programmes 
and all that, and if we have a fair we shall have to go 
around and coax all our friends to make things for it; 
Betsy says they would say that they must give to the 
poor first, but I am very poor. I have not a cent in 


140 ‘ ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

my bank, and I may have to meet a heavy lawyer’s 
bill.” 

“ That sounds like something serious,” said Mr. Gil¬ 
more trying to repress a smile. “ How do you happen 
to be incurring lawyers’ bills, and who is your lawyer ? ” 

“ My lawyer is Mr. Robert Tyson, Betsy’s uncle, but 
I can’t tell why, because the rest is a secret.” 

“ I understand. We don’t any of us like to have our 
private business discussed too freely. We shall have 
to consider that matter of your getting to school. 
How should you like to go to the Academy, Ruth ? I 
hear Miss Lucas is going to be married so you will be 
minus a governess next year.” 

Ruth wasn’t sure whether she would like to go to 
the Academy or not. She had always studied at home 
and was a little shy of meeting a lot of strange boys 
and girls. “ I don’t believe I would mind it if Eliza¬ 
beth went, too,” she said at last. 

“ That is something to think about,” said Mr. Gil¬ 
more half to himself. Then the maid came out to 
bring tea, which was served on the porch, and the girls 
settled themselves to enjoy the lemonade and cakes 
which fell to their share. 

In a few minutes they became so interested in the 
conversation which Mr. Gilmore was carrying on with 
their mothers, who had joined the group, that they 


BETSY HEAES NEWS 


141 


had not a word to say for themselves. The talk was 
all about property in the neighborhood of Brookdale. 
“I am not satisfied with this place,” Mr. Gilmore 
stated. “ It is too far from the station, from schools, 
and from centers generally. It seems to me that Tom 
should be thinking of his family as well as himself. It 
is all very well to be a gentleman farmer and enjoy 
the seclusion a spot like this furnishes, but Belle is by 
herself too much, and Euth needs playmates of her 
own age. Now that Miss Lucas is leaving I think 
Euth should be sent to school. Tom argues that he 
can get anywhere now that he has a car, but while 
that is all very well for him, it isn’t so well for the 
others. What idle property is there in your neighbor¬ 
hood, Mrs. Hollins ? ” 

Elizabeth’s mother sipped her tea thoughtfully. 
“ There are several places for sale,” she said at last. 
“ The best one is on the road just beyond us. The 
owner died last year ; his wife will live with her mar¬ 
ried daughter and the sons are in business in the city. 
They are ready to sell at a price very much below the 
original cost, I hear. The place has been well kept 
up, for the family have lived there for three years.” 

Mr. Gilmore nodded. “ Worth looking into. How 
much of a place is it ? ” 

“ There are about fifty acres, I believe. The house 


142 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

is roomy and well arranged. It was all done over 
when the Griffiths bought it. There is a fine water 
supply and beautiful shade. We consider it one of the 
most attractive places anywhere around.” 

Elizabeth was listening with all her ears, utterly un¬ 
conscious that a wasp was helping himself to her 
lemonade. 

“ Suppose we go over and have a look at it, Belle,” 
said Mr. Gilmore. “ In the meantime I will call up 
Mr. Hollins and ask him to get the figures.” 

“ There’s no time like the present,” remarked Mrs. 
Gilmore with a smile. She was only too eager to have 
the matter settled. 

Mr. Gilmore arose and went to the telephone, leav¬ 
ing the rest to discuss the question so suddenly brought 
before them. 

“ Do you mean the big gray stone house ? ” asked 
Elizabeth coming to her mother’s side. 

“ Yes, dear ; that is the one.” 

“ Why, it is very near. In winter when the trees 
are bare we can see it just as plain. O Kuth, we could 
have signals.” 

There was little else talked of during the rest of the 
day. Mr. Gilmore found the price within reason, and 
as soon as his son came in, the two went off to talk it 
over and decided that if the property was all it was 


BETSY HEARS NEWS 143 

described nothing could be more suited to their 
wishes. 

The upshot of the matter was that when the auto¬ 
mobile carried Elizabeth and her mother home, it also 
carried Ruth’s mother, father, and grandfather. Mr. 
Hollins met the party at the gate of the gray house 
and they all went over the place. So satisfactory was 
the examination that there was no delay in deciding 
upon it, and the Gilmores drove off much excited over 
the prospect of a new home. 

Elizabeth did not realize in the beginning that the 
removal of her cousins meant much more to her than 
the having them for near neighbors. It was Ruth’s 
grandfather who made an announcement which almost 
took Elizabeth’s breath away. “We shall have to en¬ 
large the garage, Tom,” he remarked, “for when we 
have another car we shall need more room. It will 
cost less to get a car than to do some other things.” 

“ Are you going to get another car, grandfather ? ” 
asked Ruth. 

“ Yes, miss, to send you and Elizabeth to school in. 
If you want to pack away any other fry, you can do it, 
and nobody will mind. The more the merrier, within 
certain limits.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Ruth. 

“ Oh ! Oh ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth. “ I shall not 


144 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

have to make that thousand dollars. What a Xveight 
off my mind.” 

Everybody laughed, Mr. Gilmore the heartiest. “ It 
will take ten years off my age if I have a laugh like 
that once a day,” he said. “ This whole plan is owing 
to you, Miss Elizabeth Hollins, and you should re¬ 
ceive some commission. That laugh alone was worth 
a hundred dollars. I am glad we shall be neigh¬ 
bors.” 

The automobile was scarcely out of sight before 
Elizabeth was on her way to Betsy. This great piece 
of news could not wait. Let her mother be the bearer 
of it to the rest of the family while Elizabeth revealed 
it to her “ first best.” 

But Betsy was not so enthusiastic as Elizabeth had 
expected. “ You don’t seem a bit glad,” said Elizabeth 
when she had unfolded the plan. 

“ Of course I am glad for you,” said Betsy with em¬ 
phasis on the last word. 

“ But, Betsy, Mr. Gilmore said Buth could take in 
other girls, and of course you will be one of them.” 

“ I don’t know that Aunt Em will allow it,” said 
Betsy by way of excuse. 

“ Why, of course she will.” 

“ She will say that she doesn’t wish to be under such 
obligations to your cousins.” 


BETSY HEARS NEWS 


145 


“ She won’t say it when she has talked to Mr. Gil¬ 
more.” 

This objection met, Betsy had another. “ We aren’t 
at all sure that I shall be going to the Academy.” 

“ Oh, but Betsy, you must. I shall beseech your 
uncle on bended knees to let you go.” 

However even this did not seem to arouse the re¬ 
sponsive interest that Elizabeth had looked for. She 
argued it all out and was convinced that every objec¬ 
tion had been met but still Betsy offered doubts. 

“I don’t believe that is all,” at last Elizabeth de¬ 
clared ; “ there is something back of it. You have some 
other reason for talking this way. Don’t you really 
want to go, Betsy ? I have been rejoiceful all the way 
home at the thought that we were going to walk the 
flowery path of knowledge hand in hand and that we 
should not be parted in our happy companionship. I 
can’t think what makes you so—so queer.” 

Betsy was silent. There was something back of it 
all which she did not like to confess. To be sure, Eliza¬ 
beth’s last speech had scattered the suspicion which had 
arisen when Elizabeth told of her Cousin Ruth’s share 
in the plan. Nevertheless, a little of it remained. 

“ Don’t you love me any more ? ” asked Elizabeth 
wistfully. “ Have I done anything, Betsy ? I thought 
we were always to be first best to one another.” 


146 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ That’s what I thought, too,” said Betsy a little de¬ 
fiantly, “ and now here comes your Cousin Ruth.” 

“ Oh, but Ruth is only my first best cousin, not my 
own special heart’s friend,” declared Elizabeth. “ I 
love her dearly, but she is younger than I am and very 
likely she will choose some girl her own age to be her 
very best friend.” 

Then Betsy was ashamed of herself, but couldn’t ad¬ 
mit it, for she was a proud little soul. “ If you really 
think that,” she replied, “ of course it would be all 
right, but naturally I thought your relative would come 
first.” 

“ How could you not trust me, Betsy ? ” said Eliza¬ 
beth reproachfully. 

“I do trust you,” Betsy spoke with decision. 
“ Haven’t I always done it even when things looked 
queer, as they did that time in the cave ? ” 

“ But I would trust you about people; not only 
about things,” returned Elizabeth who had struck the 
key-note of Betsy’s oflishness. 

Betsy had nothing to say to this except that she was 
glad Elizabeth still considered her first in her affections, 
and then because the subject most absorbing to Eliza¬ 
beth was one Betsy preferred to ignore, the former 
soon went back home where she could give free outlet 
to her enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 

B ETSY had just come from seeing Bess off for the 
seashore. Elizabeth had meant to be there, too, 
but she had not appeared. It was early in the morn¬ 
ing, for the Fergusons were obliged to start promptly 
in order to get the express train they wished to take. 
Bess was in high feather with her trunk full of pretty 
clothes, feeling a very important individual in compari¬ 
son with those who had never taken such a trip. Betsy 
was not a bit jealous of Bess and did not care how 
many summer friends she might make. Her thoughts 
were all for Elizabeth. She wondered why this par¬ 
ticular morning Elizabeth had not appeared when she 
had promised to. She was not one to break promises. 
She would give her five minutes and then if she did not 
come she should be called up by telephone. 

With her eyes fixed on the tall clock in the hall Betsy 
sat in the doorway watching the minutes pass. While 
she was doing this her uncle appeared on his way from 
breakfast. “Well, poppet,” he said, “what are you 
doing up so early ? How is it you have finished your 
breakfast ahead of me ? ” 

U1 


148 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I have been to see Bess off on her trip,” Betsy told 
him. “ The stage starts at half-past six, you know.” 

“ Oh, I see. I suppose the third member of your trio 
was there, too.” 

“ No, she wasn’t,” returned Betsy, “ and I don’t un¬ 
derstand it. She meant to come. I am going to call 
her up presently and see what is the matter.” 

“I suppose you and she haven’t been signing any 
more contracts lately, have you ? ” said Mr. Tyson 
picking up his hat. 

“ No, not since that one,” returned Betsy gravely. 
“That reminds me, Uncle Bob, that Elizabeth feels 
very nervous over the bill for that. She says you 
haven’t sent it in but that you may do it any day. I 
told her that you wouldn’t charge me anything for a 
little thing like that, and I know you wouldn’t, but she 
said it was different with her because she isn’t your niece.” 

Mr. Tyson gave a little chuckle. “ She beats the 
nation,” he exclaimed. “ Get your hat and come down 
to my office with me. We will call her up from there 
and get this matter settled. So she has been worrying 
over that, has she ? Why, I wouldn’t take twenty-five 
dollars for that performance.” 

Betsy ran to get her hat, and the two walked down 
the shady street together. Summer was getting mid¬ 
dle-aged, and only the July blossoms were showing in 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 


149 


the gardens along the way. At the door of his office 
Mr. Tyson stopped, unlocked the door, and ushered 
Betsy in. “Now you can talk to Elizabeth while I 
open my mail,” he said. 

Betsy went to the ’phone and presently heard Eliza¬ 
beth’s voice. “ Why didn’t you come ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ Why, you see,” came the answer, “ mother said I 
was so awfully sunburnt, and so I was. It hurt like 
anything and so last night I thought I would put some 
cold cream on my face and arms, and, Betsy, what do 
you think ? It wasn’t cold cream at all; it was paste 
and it all dried on hard. I was such a while getting 
my face washed that I was too late for the stage.” 

Mr. Tyson heard Betsy’s little giggle. “Is it all 
off now ? ” The question was put to Elizabeth. 

“ Yes, I think so, but I had to soak for a long time. 
Where are you, Betsy ? ” 

“In Uncle Rob’s office. He wants you to come 
down. He wants to see you about the bill, you 
know.” 

“ O dear,” Betsy heard a sigh and a resigned voice 
say. “ Well, I will come.” Then the receiver was 
hung up, and Betsy went back to her uncle. 

“ She is coming,” Betsy gave the information, “ but 
I think she doesn’t want to very much. Will it be a 
very big bill ? ” she asked timidly. 


/ 


150 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“Not over twenty-five dollars,” replied Mr. Tyson 
easily. 

“ Twenty-five dollars! ” exclaimed Betsy under her 
breath. “ Where in the world will Elizabeth get that 
much ? Is that my part, too ? ” she asked, after a 
pause. 

“ Oh, your part doesn’t count,” her uncle told her. 
“ I am your guardian, you see, and all such business is 
included in the general care of you.” 

“ Oh! ” Betsy was relieved, but she still felt anxious 
for Elizabeth. She sat watching her uncle sort his 
mail while she wondered where her friend was to get 
so much money. 

When Mr. Tyson had laid the last of his letters on 
the pile before him he turned to Betsy and asked: 
“ What makes you so sober ? ” 

“I was just thinking about Elizabeth,” came the 
answer. “Does she have to pay all that money at 
once ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t let that bother you,” her uncle returned. 
“I shall give her a receipted bill. We are going to 
call it quits, for I consider that her services to me offset 
mine to her. Did she tell you why she wasn’t on hanc 
this morning as you expected ? ” 

A smile broke over the gravity of Betsy’s face, anc 
she repeated Elizabeth’s excuse. 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 


151 


“ She certainly is rare,” exclaimed Mr. Tyson when 
he had recovered from the fit of laughter which fol¬ 
lowed Betsy’s account. “ I’ll venture to say that there 
isn’t a dull moment in the Hollins household when 
Elizabeth is at home.” 

“ Here she comes now,” Betsy told him, seeing Eliza¬ 
beth crossing the street. 

She came in looking cool and neat in her brown linen 
frock. “I came as soon as I could,” she explained, 
“ but mother said I must not walk fast for it is going 
to be a warm day. I always rush so when I have any¬ 
thing on my mind. I am afraid I shall never be a 
stately lady.” 

“ I hear you tried to have a pasty complexion,” said 
Mr. Tyson jocularly. 

Elizabeth laughed. “ Wasn’t it funny ? I think one 
reason why the paste wouldn’t come off easily was be¬ 
cause I laughed so that I couldn’t get it out of the 
creases.” 

“ I don’t see how you came to make the mistake in 
the first place,” remarked Betsy. “ Paste doesn’t smell 
a bit like cold cream.” 

“ I wasn’t thinking about the smell,” Elizabeth told 
her. “ I was thinking about Ruth’s white rabbits. 
I saw the tube of paste lying on the table in 
mother’s room and took it for granted that it 


152 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


was the cold cream; it was very soft and didn’t dry 
right away.” She sat down to await Mr. Tyson’s 
pleasure. 

He turned to his desk and began writing. In a few 
moments he handed Elizabeth the sheet of paper. 
“ Will you please sign that ? ” he said. 

“What is it?” asked Elizabeth, looking with a 
bewildered air at the words before her. 

“ It is a receipt for twenty-five dollars,” Mr. Tyson 
answered at the same time occupying himself with 
writing on a second sheet, which he signed and blotted. 
“ Here is a receipted bill which I have ready for you. 
When you have signed the one in your hand I will give 
you this.” 

Elizabeth looked at Betsy. “ What does it mean ? ” 
she asked. “ This says 4 for services rendered.’ I 
don’t know what that means.” 

Betsy came over to look at the paper which read, 
“ Robert E. Tyson to Elizabeth Hollins Dr. For serv¬ 
ices rendered.” 

“ O Uncle Rob, it is a joke,” cried Betsy. 

“ You can think so if you choose,” he returned. “ It 
is simply the way you look at it. Elizabeth thinks she 
owes me something for my services, and I consider that 
I owe her something for her services. I set the sum at 
twenty-five dollars. She can receipt her bill to me and 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 153 

I can receipt my bill to her, so it all comes out equal, 
doesn’t it ? ” 

Elizabeth looked at him earnestly, caught the twinkle 
in his eye, rushed up to the desk, signed her name to 
the bill she held all in a moment. “ There ! ” she ex¬ 
claimed, “you are an incorrigated jester. You are 
doing all this just to make fun of us.” 

Mr. Tyson laughed as he took the bill she had signed 
and gave her the other in return. 44 It is all the way 
one looks at it,” he repeated. 44 If you have a sense of 
humor, you can call it a joke; if you haven’t, you can 
call it business.” 

44 1 shall call it a business joke,” returned Elizabeth, 
44 so you can take it either way. This is a day of jokes, 
for I woke up with one on my face, pasted on. I don’t 
suppose Dick and Bert will ever stop teasing me about 
it; but I don’t care, for all my anxious cares are melt¬ 
ing away like dew before the sun. I have a perfectly 
luscious secret to tell you, Betsy, when Mr. Tyson says 
we may go. Can you come up to my house and 
hear it?” 

44 1 don’t want to interfere with any luscious secrets,” 
remarked Mr. Tyson, 44 and have only this much more 
to say, whenever you get into trouble, either one of 
you, consider my legal services are yours to command. 
I thought you owed us all a little anxiety, Miss Eliza- 


154 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

beth, in return for the hot water you got us all into 
with your secret correspondence; but we know you 
now, and shall not be fooled that way again. The 
next time anything mysterious occurs we shall know 
you are at the botfom of it.” 

Elizabeth looked a little grave, but everything had 
turned out so fortunately that she did not let the 
speech weigh heavily upon her. Mr. Tyson could 
have his joke if he pleased; she was the better off be¬ 
cause of it. The two girls went off up the street, now 
shady only on the opposite side, for the sun was riding 
high in the heavens. Betsy must stop to tell her Aunt 
Emily where she was going, and Elizabeth waited on 
the front porch for her. A row of hollyhocks had 
stretched up as far as the railing and now flaunted 
themselves in crimson, pink, and white. Sweet peas 
on the other side of the porch were trying to run a 
race with the hollyhocks and had already managed a 
height within an inch of their rivals. These too 
showed crimson, pink, and white with some deep 
purple and faintly streaked lavender. Burly bees 
droned among the blossoms. From the house came an 
odor of boiling syrup. Miss Emily was overseeing the 
making of currant jelly. 

Presently Betsy came out with a red cluster in each 
hand. “ Aren’t they pretty ? ” she said. “ I’d like to 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 


155 


wear them on a hat, only they would get all soft and 
the juice would dribble down very soon in this hot sun. 
I think we’d better eat them.” 

They sat down on the steps together and slipped the 
shining globes, one by one, into their mouths. They 
liked the pleasant tartness. “HI tell you what let’s 
do,” exclaimed Elizabeth when the last currant had 
disappeared. u Let us ask mother if we can make 
some jelly to take to school for lunch next winter.” 

“We always have plenty without making it,” ob¬ 
jected Betsy. 

“ I know, but it would be nice to have some we made 
our ownselves.” 

“ Nor ah says it doesn’t always jell,” returned Betsy 
still doubtful, “ besides it is too hot to stand over a stove 
on such a day. Let’s think of something cool to do. 
Besides,” she went on, “ I don’t know yet whether I 
am going to the Academy or not.” 

“ O Betsy, all the sweetness will be gone out of my 
cup of joy if you don’t go. Have you said anything 
about Ruth and the automobile and all that ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ What did your aunt say ? ” 

“ She said ‘ Humph ! ’ ” 

“ Was that all ? ” 

“Yes, that was every single word ; nothing but just 


156 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


‘ Humph! ’ though I’ll tell you what my private opin¬ 
ion is—she will talk to Uncle Rob, and to Mrs. Lynde 
first.” 

“ And then-” Elizabeth put in eagerly. 

“ She will do exactly as she pleases,” Betsy laughed. 

“ Your uncle said whenever we got into trouble we 
must consider that we could go to him to help us out. 
I consider it a very great, big, tremendous trouble not 
to have you go to the Academy.” 

“ You won’t miss me when you have Ruth,” replied 
Betsy in whose breast jealousy still rankled. 

“ I think you are just horrid,” returned Elizabeth. 
“ I don’t believe you really care whether you go or 
not.” 

“ I do care, but if I can’t go, what is the use of being 
miserable ? I shall probably go to boarding-school 
then, and if I do go to the one in the town where Hal 
goes to college it won’t be so bad.” 

Elizabeth made no reply to this, but got up and said: 
“Well, I must be going because it will soon be too hot 
to be out in the sun.” 

Betsy made no effort to join her. 

Elizabeth walked away a step or two, then she 
looked back. “ Aren’t you coming, Betsy ? ” she 
asked wistfully. “ I truly have a secret.” 

Thus reminded, Betsy joined her, and they w r ent off 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 


157 


amicably enough to seek the coolest spot available. 
This happened to be under a huge oak tree which 
stood upon a slight elevation at the back of the brown 
house. The ground descended quite suddenly a little 
beyond. At the bottom of the incline a little brook 
babbled along. The sound of it was pleasant and gave 
a sense of coolness to those who listened. The girls 
threw themselves upon the cool grass and fanned them¬ 
selves with their hats. 

“ What is the wonderful secret ? ” at last Betsy 
asked. 

*“ It really is wonderful,” Elizabeth answered, feeling 
a hint of doubt in Betsy’s words. 

“ Then tell me.” 

“ Why, it is just this : Lillie Paine told me that she 
heard your Uncle Rob say that he thought my sister 
Kathie was the prettiest girl in town, and I heard 
Kathie tell mother that she really thought your Uncle 
Rob was fine. O Betsy, wouldn’t it be fun if they 
were to marry ? Then we would be relations.” 

“ What relation would we be ? ” asked Betsy busy¬ 
ing herself with the problem. 

“ Why, let me see. Your uncle would be my brother, 
and my sister would be your aunt. You would be my 
sister’s niece ; you couldn’t possibly be my niece, Betsy, 
could you ? ” 


158 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I should think not.” Betsy was disposed to resent 
such a possibility. 

“ It is very hard to puzzle out,” said Elizabeth after 
giving some thought to the question, “ but at any rate 
we would have to be some sort of near relation.” 

“ Nearer than Ruth ? ” asked Betsy quickly. 

“ I should think so,” Elizabeth assured her, “ for a 
sister is much nearer than an aunt, and an uncle is 
nearer than a cousin.” 

Betsy could not quite follow this line of argument, 
but she was satisfied that it was a right one. 

“ It would be fun to have a wedding, wouldn’t it ? ” 
said Elizabeth. 

Doubts were already beginning to rise in Betsy’s 
mind. “I am afraid my uncle is too old to marry 
your sister,” she said after a pause. 

“ He is pretty old,” acknowledged Elizabeth. “ How 
old should you think he was ? ” 

“ He must be thirty at least, and that is pretty old. 
He is my father’s youngest brother, to be sure, but 
then-” 

Elizabeth looked disappointed. “ It does seem rather 
too old,” she agreed, “ for Kath is only eighteen. I 
must ask mother if men as old as that ever do marry 
any one eighteen. I shall not tell her any names, but 
just the ages,” 


THE RECEIPTED BILL 


159 


“ Let’s go ask her now,” proposed Betsy. “ It’s get¬ 
ting too hot out here anyhow.” 

They went into the cooler house, where they found 
Mrs. Hollins. To her Elizabeth put the question and 
was assured that it was not at all unusual for a man of 
thirty to marry some one twelve years younger than 
himself. “ But why do you ask ? ” inquired Mrs. Hol¬ 
lins. 

“ Oh, just for a private reason,” Elizabeth answered 
evasively. “ We’ll tell you some of these days.” Then 
hearing from Babs that Dick was cracking ice pre¬ 
paratory to freezing ice-cream they all flew down-stairs 
to watch this very interesting process. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE FIRST QUARREL 


F OR the next few days Elizabeth and Betsy saw 
very little of each other, for the Gilmores were 
moving into the gray house and it was an exciting time 
for their cousins. Elizabeth was up bright and early 
and made the announcement at the breakfast table that 
she was going to spend the day with Ruth. “And 
you won’t see me till night,” she said, “ for I am going 
to have a picnic dinner out under the trees.” 

“The McGonigles are going to move, too,” an¬ 
nounced Bert. 

“ Thank goodness ! ” exclaimed Kathie. 

The McGonigles lived on the road a little back of 
the Hollins farm. Their little rickety, unpainted, 
weather-stained house was considered an eyesore by 
all but Bert, who preferred Patsy McGonigle to any 
other playmate and considered it a high privilege to be 
allowed to share Patsy’s supper of porridge and milk, 
disdaining much better fare in his own home. Any 
event concerning the McGonigles was a matter of so 
great importance that Bert reported it to his own 
160 


THE FIRST QTJARREL 161 

family quite as if they , could not fail to be inter¬ 
ested. 

On this occasion Elizabeth was the only one who gave 
a second thought to Bert’s remark. “ Where are they 
going to move ? ” she asked. 

“ Over in the little white house near the blacksmith 
shop,” Bert told her. 

“I wonder how long it will be white,” remarked 
Kathie with languid interest. 

“ You’re always saying things like that,” complained 
Bert. “ I reckon if you had seven children you wouldn’t 
be any more particular than Mrs. McGonigle, especially 
if you had a poor weakly bit of a husband like Peter 
McGonigle.” 

Kathie laughed. The speech sounded like an echo of 
Mrs. McGonigle. 

“I think I won’t come home either,” Bert went on 
to say. “ I’ll be helping them with the moving 
maybe.” 

“ I declare, Bert,” spoke up his mother, “ you are get¬ 
ting to talk just like the McGonigles. I do wish you 
would find some other playmate than Patsy. I am 
glad he is going to move further off; perhaps now you 
won’t be running with him so much.” 

“ What’s the matter with Patsy ? ” said Bert. “ I’m 
sure he doesn’t lie nor steal.” 


162 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Dear me, Bert, who said he did ? ” protested his 
mother. “Iam sure Patsy is a good honest boy, but I 
do require a few other things in my son.” 

“ I don’t see what any one wants more than that,” 
retorted Bert, on the defensive. “ Mrs. McGonigle says 
she guesses if her children don’t lie nor steal they’ll 
do.” 

“ But my dear boy, I am not Mrs. McGonigle,” re¬ 
plied his mother, “ and there is no reason why I shouldn’t 
expect my son to become a gentleman as well as an 
honest man.” 

Bert had no reply to make to this but went off rather 
sulkily. In the town of Brookdale there was little dif¬ 
ference in station. The well-to-do hobnobbed with their 
poorer neighbors. The children attended the same 
school, had the same interests, joined in the same sports. 
The Tysons and the Lyndes were considered the auto¬ 
crats of the place, lived in the finest houses, and were 
consulted upon matters of importance. Mrs. Lynde 
and Miss Tyson were great friends and encouraged the 
intimacy between the granddaughter of the one and 
the great-niece of the other. Bess prided herself upon 
being the best-dressed girl in town, and Betsy was 
secretly pleased that her Aunt Emily owned the finest 
place and that it was her home. She was sometimes a 
little envious of Bess’s fine clothes, but really gave few 


THE FIEST QUARREL 


163 


thoughts to them, especially when Elizabeth was by. 
This young person was so ready with her make-believes 
that realities made less impression upon her than upon 
her two friends. Elizabeth would not have exchanged 
the old brown house for the home of either of her friends. 
Her corner in the attic served equally well as a moated 
castle, a palace, or a fairy tower. Here she could weave 
her dreams, could write her verses, and invent her plays. 
The little hollow behind the house was a fairy dell. 
The witches lived on a high hill crowned with bowlders. 
The orchard was a sylvan retreat for a princess, a 
gypsy, or a lone maiden. Her clothes could become 
silk and velvet at will, and there was magic in every 
bird’s song. 

Upon the day when she expected to help Ruth ar¬ 
range her room in the gray house she had no need for 
dreams since there was so much delightful reality, and 
she was soon deep in the labors of helping to unpack. 
To be sure, when the picnic dinner was served out on 
the porch she could not withstand giving a touch of 
romance to the feast. This was a rescued king and his 
court who had just returned to their native land after 
being prisoners for a long time. She gave voice to her 
thought by saying to Ruth’s grandfather : “ It must be 
nice to return from captivity and feel free again.” 

u We haven’t been captives,” said Ruth. 


164 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ No, but you might have been, and this might have 
been your old gray castle which has been standing 
silently waiting for your return.” 

“ You do have such funny ideas,” returned Ruth. 
“ Doesn’t she, grandfather ? ” 

“ I suspect that she gets a great deal of pleasure 
from them,” replied Mr. Gilmore smiling down at 
Elizabeth. 

It was a busy day, which left Elizabeth very tired at 
its close ; but it was a pleasure to think of Ruth in her 
pretty room, so near by that Elizabeth could see her light 
twinkling through the trees. There really had not 
been time to think of Betsy, though as she was dropping 
off to sleep Elizabeth wondered dimly what her “ first 
best ” had been doing. 

It had been rather a lonely day for Betsy, if the 
truth must be known. She worked in her garden, held 
some worsted for her Aunt Emily, and then when Miss 
Tyson took her knitting and went over to sit with Mrs. 
Lynde, Betsy was left alone. She would have liked to 
go to see Elizabeth, but Elizabeth had made it very 
plain that she would not be at home, so Betsy went up¬ 
stairs and tried to fix her mind upon a book. It was a 
pleasant room in which she sat. There were pretty 
chintz curtains at the windows, a low couch was cov¬ 
ered with the same material; on the polished floor lay 


THE FIRST QUARREL 


165 


soft summer rugs; the bed was dainty in all its ap¬ 
pointments ; a small desk was supplied with all that 
could be required; a tall glass reflected Betsy’s small 
form curled up in the depths of an easy chair. The 
child drew a little sigh as she looked around. It was a 
pleasant home and she was thankful for it, but just 
then she wished she had a mother, a mother into whose 
arms she could creep and who would comfort and cuddle 
her. Aunt Emily was kind, there was no denying that; 
but she was not a demonstrative person and in the four 
years Betsy had lived in the brick house she could not 
remember a time when she had sat on her aunt’s lap. 
On Uncle Robert’s, yes, though of late her aunt had 
been telling her that she was too big a girl to sit on 
laps. A cool kiss was the most she could expect from 
Miss Emily. Her Uncle Rob put his arm around her 
and hugged her to him very often, and as for Hal she 
expected to sit on his lap whenever she wanted to, no 
matter how old she might be. 

“It is a very long day,” sighed Betsy looking at the 
small clock upon the mantel. “It isn’t near dinner 
time and if I don’t know what to do with the morning 
how shall I pass away the afternoon ? ” She wished that 
Bess were at home, for even if Bess were not so compan¬ 
ionable as Elizabeth she did very well. It seemed unfor¬ 
tunate that she must be away just at a time when Eliza- 


166 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

beth was so occupied at her cousins’. Betsy wondered 
if Elizabeth would come over the first thing the next 
morning, or not. It would be wise, perhaps, to call her 
up after breakfast. Surely one day must be enough. 

Betsy tried to read, but the book was one she had 
read before and she could not fix her attention on it. 
She believed she would go up to Lillie Paine’s. She 
made up her mind to do this, but when she considered 
that it would be a long walk in the hot sun she decided 
not to go, and there was no nearer place that attracted 
her. The day wore slowly on, and by night Betsy was 
in rather an ill humor. 

She awoke in a hopeful spirit the next morning, how¬ 
ever, and immediately after breakfast telephoned to the 
Hollins’s. It was Mrs. Hollins who answered, and to 
Betsy’s inquiry answered that Elizabeth had already 
gone to her cousin’s and would probably stay there the 
most of the day. “ They are getting settled, you 
know,” said Mrs. Hollins, “ and Elizabeth is very help¬ 
ful, besides she enjoys the excitement. I will tell her 
you called up, Betsy. Is there anything special you 
want to say ? ” 

“No, there is nothing special,” returned Betsy. 
“ Good-bye,” and she hung up the receiver. 

The ill humor of the night before returned in full 
force. She was neglected, forgotten. Elizabeth did 


THE FIRST QUARREL 


167 


not care for her any more. She had transferred all 
her affection to Ruth. She was so absorbed in her that 
she could not give Betsy even one moment. Two 
whole days to pass without seeing Elizabeth was some¬ 
thing unparalleled. It never happened unless one of 
them was away. By afternoon Betsy had worked 
herself up into a most unhappy frame of mind. A let¬ 
ter from Bess did not render her any happier. Bess 
was having a fine time. She had met a number of 
nice girls, and she went in bathing with them every 
day. Yet it was something to have had a letter from 
Bess, even though there was no sign of any kind from 
Elizabeth. “ I will tell Bess she may be my first best, 
so I will,” Betsy told herself. “ I will write and tell her 
so, and then I will tell Elizabeth what I have done and 
she can have her Ruth that she thinks so much of.” 

She took unusual pleasure in writing an affectionate 
letter to Bess, stamped and sealed it ready to go in the 
box for the next morning’s mail. She felt quite virtu¬ 
ous about it. She had paid Elizabeth back ; now see 
what would happen. 

It was after supper that a call over the ’phone came 
from Elizabeth. “ Is that you, Betsy ? ” 

“ Yes, what is it ? ” a very cool voice answered. 

“ I am so tired, but it has been lots of fun. Can’t you 
come up, Betsy ? I have so much to tell you.” 


168 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I don’t believe I can very well.” 

“ Oh, yes, you can. Hal will bring yon if you don’t 
want to come alone.” 

“ I don’t think I can come.” The answer was given 
more decidedly. 

“ I’d come down to see you if I were not so tired,” 
came from Elizabeth’s end of the line. 

“ Oh, don’t think of doing it.” Betsy made the po¬ 
lite protest. 

“ I’ll come to-morrow.” 

There was no answer to this but “ Good-night.” 

True to her word, Elizabeth did go the next morning. 
At first she did not notice Betsy’s decidedly chilly 
manner, but chattered away about all she had been 
doing at her Cousin Belle’s house, taking it for granted 
that Betsy would be interested. Betsy really was, 
though she asked not a single question. In time this 
was too noticeable to overlook and Elizabeth said: 
“ What’s the matter, Betsy ? You are so queer.” 

“ Oh, am I ? Perhaps you prefer to stay where they 
are not so queer, at your Cousin Belle’s, for example. 
I suppose Ruth is perfect.” 

Elizabeth was silent. This was not her Betsy. “ I 
can’t imagine what is the matter,” she murmured. 
“You knew I was going to Cousin Belle’s to help. I 
told you, and you never said a word.” 


THE FIRST QUAEREL 


169 


“ Oh, of course you told me. I am very glad you 
enjoyed yourself so much with your dear cousin. I 
suppose you will be going there every day after 
this.” 

“Why, I suppose I shall,” Elizabeth spoke with a 
slight show of defiance. Of course she meant to go as 
often as she chose. Betsy was not to dictate to her in 
that way. Her pride arose. “ I should think I had a 
right to visit my own relations as often as I wanted to, 
Betsy Tyson,” she answered. “I don’t have to ask 
you when and where I shall go.” 

“ Oh, no, of course not.” Betsy was on her mettle, 
too. “ I may as well tell you that I have decided to 
have Bess Ferguson for my best friend. I have just 
written to tell her so.” 

“Oh!” A little cry of distress was wrung from 
Elizabeth. The tears came to her eyes, but she winked 
them back. “ Yery well,” she went on, “of course if 
you like Bess the best that is all there is about it. 
Don’t think I care. You can write to Bess every day 
for all me.” 

“ No, I don’t suppose you do care so long as you 
have more agreeable company,” retorted Betsy. 

“Well, they are more agreeable,” Elizabeth main¬ 
tained. “There isn’t one of them would talk to me 
the way you do.” 


170 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ If I am so disagreeable you’d better not stay where 
I am,” Betsy went a step further. “ And what’s more,” 
she added, “ I hope and pray my uncle won’t marry 
your sister.” 

This was more than enough for Elizabeth. It 
amounted to being asked to leave. Without a word 
she picked up her hat and marched down the steps and 
down the walk. Not once did she look back. Her 
hurt feelings overmastered her to such a degree that 
she could not restrain her tears. 

Betsy watched her go. She realized that she had 
overstepped the mark. All was over with her and 
Elizabeth. Never, never could they be friends again. 
The dreadful fact overwhelmed her. Why had she 
been so hateful ? Why, oh why ? She did not wait 
to see Elizabeth out of sight but rushed up to her room, 
locked the door after her, threw herself on the couch 
and burst into a flood of tears. Never in all her life 
had she been so unhappy except at that awful time 
when her mother died. “ It’s just as bad as if Eliza¬ 
beth were dead,” sobbed Betsy, “ and I have done it. 
I can’t think why I was so hateful. She will never 
speak to me again, and no one can blame her. I wish 
she hadn’t any Cousin Ruth. I wish they had never 
seen the gray house. I wish, I wish it were yesterday 
and not to-day.” Alas, how many of us have wished 


THE FIRST QUARREL 


171 


that! She cried herself into a headache and spoke 
truthfully when she answered Hal’s knock by saying 
she didn’t want any dinner. She was not feeling well 
and all she wanted was to be let alone. It was not in 
Miss Emily’s disposition to coddle, and so Betsy was 
left to her own miserable self. 

As for Elizabeth, unhappy as she was, there was too 
much going on for her to take time to nurse her griev¬ 
ance. Ruth and her grandfather were waiting for her 
to take a motor ride to the house they had just left, as 
there were some things still there which needed to be 
brought away carefully. Ruth had so many plans, and 
was so happy in telling what she meant to do, that 
Elizabeth had not much occasion to dwell upon her 
trouble with Betsy. It was only after she was in bed 
that night and her mother came to say good-night that 
she unburdened her heart. 

“Was it my fault, mother?” she asked wistfully. 
“ I didn’t have to stay away from Ruth just because 
Betsy wanted me to, did I ? ” 

“ You and Betsy have been such constant companions 
that I suspect she did feel herself a little neglected,” 
returned Mrs. Hollins. 

“ It is the first real, real quarrel we ever had,” Eliza¬ 
beth went on to say. “ The sun has gone down on my 
wrath, but it hasn’t gone very far down, and I am go- 


172 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

ing to forgive her if you say I should. I cannot pass 
any more miserial hours.” 

“ I don’t think you seemed so very miserable to-day,” 
remarked Mrs. Hollins. 

“ Oh, no, perhaps not; it is in the lonely watches of 
the night that I feel so. Do you think I should call 
up Betsy and tell her I forgive her ? ” 

“ Why no, I think not. She has not asked forgive¬ 
ness, and she was really the chief offender. I think if 
you hold yourself ready to forgive her when the proper 
moment comes that is all that can be expected of you. 
No doubt she will regret what she has said and will 
tell you so.” 

“She is very proud,” returned Elizabeth wofully. 
“ I am afraid she will never hold out the olive of 
peace.” 

“ You mean the olive branch, don’t you ?” 

“ Oh, yes, perhaps I do.” 

“ I wouldn’t be too unhappy about it, though I know 
you cannot but feel sorry. I am sure it will all blow 
over and you and Betsy will be as good friends as ever 
in time.” 

“You are so comforting, you blessedest of mothers,” 
said Elizabeth. “ Betsy has no mother, poor Betsy, 
poor orphaned child! I can imagine that she is mois¬ 
tening her pillow with tears at this very moment.” 


THE FIRST QUARREL 


173 


Mrs. Hollins felt that Betsy might well do this, un¬ 
pleasant as she had been in her jealousy, but she only 
said: “Never mind, don’t let that keep you awake. 
By this time to-morrow you may be as near and dear 
as you always have been.” A prophecy which was 
fulfilled, but under circumstances not one of those 
concerned could have anticipated. 


CHAPTER xrri 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 

B EREFT of Betsy, Elizabeth was obliged to turn to 
Ruth for companionship, and these two found 
enough in common to keep them happy for a while 
anyhow. If Elizabeth missed Betsy it is safe to say 
that Betsy missed Elizabeth a hundredfold more. With 
the disappearance of Elizabeth from sight began re¬ 
morse. The letter to Bess lay on the desk. Betsy 
could not bring herself to send it. The word that 
placed Bess “ first best ” had not been said, Betsy told 
herself, and in her heart of hearts she clung to the 
hope that she still had first place among Elizabeth’s 
friends. 

While she was nursing remorse Elizabeth was ex¬ 
periencing the delights of exploring the grounds sur¬ 
rounding the Gilmores’ new home. She and Ruth had 
planned this journey of discovery the first thing after 
breakfast and could hardly wait till the dew was off 
the grass before they plunged in. Their first burst of 
enthusiasm broke forth at sight of a spring which had 
been stoned around, the top stone being surmounted 
174 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


175 


With a small marble figure of a child. The figure was 
overgrown with weeds and vines, and was scarcely 
visible at first. The work of clearing away the 
growths was one to which the two girls gave their 
immediate attention, working with such diligence that 
they soon had the statue uncovered. 

“ Isn’t it perfectly beautiful ? ” said Elizabeth stand¬ 
ing off to note the effect. “ I quite envy you, Ruth. 
You are the only one around here who has a marble 
statue in her garden. It makes it seem so much more 
romantic, like Italy and such foreign places.” 

“ It will be a lovely spot to bring our dolls and have 
tea,” declared Ruth; “ the water will be so handy.” 

Elizabeth was off in dreamland. She was thinking 
out a poem which the place suggested to her. 

Their next discovery, which brought forth exclama¬ 
tions of delight, was a dilapidated summer-house 
almost broken down by the weight of vines which 
clambered over it. It was on top of a terrace and 
overlooked distant ridges and a thread of river wind¬ 
ing along. 

“Isn’t it perfectly dear ?” cried Ruth. “We must 
tell grandfather about it. I know he will have it fixed 
up. He can come here and sit; it would be so shady 
and nice for him.” 

After this they came upon a thicket of bushes bear- 


176 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

ing a red fruit which Elizabeth called mountain 
cherries. 

“ Mountain cherries ? I never heard of them be¬ 
fore,” said Ruth. “ Are they good to eat ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, we think they are very good,” Elizabeth 
told her. “ ’Lectra calls them mountain plums. They 
are rather big for cherries, I suppose. We have a lot 
of them back of the orchard. One of our guinea hens 
makes a nest there nearly every year. I think this is 
a very nice retiring place, Ruth. We could steal off 
here, and nobody would guess where we were.” 

Ruth was peering through the bushes to discover 
what might be beyond. “ I see two boys down in that 
little house below there,” she told Elizabeth. “ One of 
them looks like Bert.” 

Elizabeth looked in the same direction. “It is 
Bert,” she declared. “ He is down there with Patsy 
McGonigle. The McGonigles have moved, but that is 
where they did live. I wonder what those two are 
doing. I’m going to find out.” She crawled through 
the bushes and came out where the line of stone wall 
ran along. On the other side of the wall it was rough 
and stony, but Elizabeth managed to get over the wall 
and on to a flat stone where she could see and be seen. 
Ruth, with some difficulty, followed her. Elizabeth 
gave a long call: “ Bert, what are you doing ? ” 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


177 


The two boys looked up. Patsy waved his hand. 
“ Come down and see,” he answered. 

“They don’t believe we dare scramble down this 
hill,” Elizabeth turned to say to Ruth, “ but I’m 
going to do it. We can go zigzag and it won’t be 
very hard.” 

She plunged ahead, sliding here, catching hold of 
bushes there, Ruth close at her heels. Finally they 
reached the foot of the hill from which it was easy to 
get to the rickety little house where the boys were. 
“You didn’t think we could do it, did you ? ” said 
Elizabeth in a triumphant tone as she came upon the 
boys. 

“ Ho ! ” returned Bert, “ that is dead easy, but I can’t 
see what you wanted to come for.” 

“We wanted to see what you were doing.” 

“We aren’t doing any harm,” protested Bert accus¬ 
tomed to being taken to task. 

“Nobody said you were,” Elizabeth retorted. 
“ What’s in that can ? ” 

“ Only a little speck of gunpowder. We’re going to 
make some spitfires.” 

“ Let’s watch and see them,” Elizabeth proposed to 
Ruth. “ I never saw spitfires. Did you ? ” 

Ruth never had and was quite as ready as Elizabeth 
to be informed. 


178 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ Isn’t it dangerous ? ” asked Elizabeth keeping at a 
safe distance. 

“ Not a bit, if you do it right,” Bert informed her. 
“ You only take a little pinch of the gunpowder.” 

The two girls watched while two or three spitfires 
fizzed successfully, then Ruth, growing ambitious, 
wanted to try one for herself, and Elizabeth crouched 
down by her side to watch operations. 

But alas ! Ruth was overreckless. She poured out a 
little pile of the gunpowder from the pan and from this 
pile she took her pinch. Her spitfire acted most prop¬ 
erly, but one spark flew too far and touched the little 
heap. There was a flare, a sudden shriek, a scream of 
pain. “ My eyes ! My eyes ! ” moaned Elizabeth. 

For a second the other children stood as if paralyzed, 
then Patsy rushed off up the hill like one mad. Ruth 
lost entire control of herself, and stood there wringing 
her hands and crying out: “ She’s blind ! She’s blind ! 
I did it! I did it! ” 

Bert knelt by his sister, not daring to desert her, but 
thinking he should go for help. 

In an incredibly short space of time, long as it seemed 
to the three children, an automobile came whizzing 
down the road. In it sat Ruth’s grandfather and 
Patsy. The latter, holding himself very stiffly by the 
side of the chauffeur, could not help glorying a little in 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


179 


taking this, his first, ride in a motor car. He had 
given the facts of the case to Mr. Gilmore, who, for¬ 
tunately, had just returned in the car, and who was the 
first person Patsy came upon after his wild scramble up 
the hill. Mr. Gilmore wasted no time. “ Jump in,” he 
said to Patsy. “ Tell the man where to go. Martin, 
get there as quick as you can. I don’t care if you do 
exceed the speed limit.” 

In a twinkling Elizabeth was lifted into the car with 
Ruth and Bert, and off they flew to the doctor’s. There 
was scarce a word spoken all the way. Once Mr. 
Gilmore asked Elizabeth very tenderly: “ Are you suf¬ 
fering much, dear child ? ” 

“ It hurts very much indeed,” replied Elizabeth, 
scarcely able to keep back a moan of pain. 

Very anxiously did the little company wait to hear 
the doctor’s decision. He came out of his office lead¬ 
ing Elizabeth with eyes carefully bandaged. “ I hope 
we can save them,” he said to Mr. Gilmore’s eager 
question. “ I don’t believe the sight is touched, but we 
cannot tell just yet. She will have to stay in a dark¬ 
ened room for some time, but we shall hope for the 
best.” 

Bert bit his lip, trying hard to wink back the tears, 
while Ruth made no pretense at all but sobbed unre¬ 
strainedly. Even Patsy’s blue eyes showed red rims, 


180 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


but he had a word of encouragement. “ Me mither had 
a frind an’ her eyes was hurted something turrble,” he 
said. “ It was in a ’splosion of a fact’ry an’ doesn’t she 
see as well as iver this blessed day ? The docthors 
give her up, so they did, but they don’t be knowin’ all 
there is to know, an’ she has her eyes, thanks be to 
none av ’em.” 

Followed by Bert, Mr. Gilmore led Elizabeth to her 
mother. Ruth was sent home in the car. Patsy 
jumped down and made off as soon as the car stopped 
at the Hollins’s gate. He felt that he was at the bot¬ 
tom of the morning’s mischief and did not care to face 
Elizabeth’s parents just then. Neither did Bert care to 
be on hand. He was deeply distressed and said to him¬ 
self that there was nothing he would not do to make up 
to Elizabeth for the accident. His pet dog Bouncer 
followed him down to the barn, seeing that his master 
was in trouble. Bert crept into an empty stall and 
threw himself down on a pile of straw, Bouncer 
snuggling close to him and licking his hand. Bert 
caressed the dog’s smooth ears. “ If she goes blind, 
Bouncer,” he said, “ I shall have to give you to her so 
you can lead her about. I haven’t got anything much 
else, and you’d be worth more than my Waterbury 
watch to her. Nothing I could ever do would make 
up, but I’d do the best I could.” 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


181 


While Bert was wofully bringing himself to task, 
Ruth was sobbing out her story to her mother, who, 
while she realized that Ruth had been careless, did not 
blame her entirely. “ I think you all were at fault,” 
she told Ruth. “ First the boys had no business to be 
playing with such dangerous stuff, and then Elizabeth 
should not have gone down where they were; you 
should not have gone with her, and once there you 
should not have touched the powder.” 

“ I know, I know,” wailed Ruth. “1 shall never be 
happy again. We were having such a lovely time, too. 
I know her mother can never forgive me, and I don’t 
see how Elizabeth can.” 

Her mother tried to comfort her, but nothing stopped 
Ruth’s tears. Her grandfather’s account of Elizabeth’s 
condition only aggravated her trouble, and when Kathie 
appeared Ruth flew up-stairs dreading to meet any of 
her cousins. 

u The child will make herself ill,” said Mrs. Gilmore. 
“ I don’t know what we can do about it. She re¬ 
proaches herself for all that has happened and I cannot 
persuade her differently.” 

“ It is a pretty serious thing, of course,” commented 
Mr. Gilmore. “ Such a bright, happy little person as 
Elizabeth; it seems doubly hard that she must look 
forward to such an awful possibility.” Mr. Gilmore 


182 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


sighed, for his own dimming sight gave him a better 
realization of what Elizabeth must feel. 

It was not till toward evening that Betsy heard the 
news. It was her brother who brought it to her. He 
came in looking very grave and stopped at the door of 
the library where Betsy and her aunt were. “ Have 
you heard about Elizabeth Hollins ? ” he asked. 

Betsy put down her book. Miss Emily went on 
knitting. “ What about her ? ” asked the latter. 

“ She was playing with her cousin, Ruth Gilmore, and 
with Bert and another boy. The boys had some gun¬ 
powder and in some way there was an explosion. 
Elizabeth happened to be nearest, and they fear her 
eyes are fatally injured.” 

Betsy sank on the floor in an agony of distress. 
“ Her precious eyes ! Her precious eyes ! ” she wailed. 
“ She will never see me again, and her last remem¬ 
brance of my face will be that I looked angrily at her.” 

“ Sit up here, Betsy, and don’t act like a crazy per¬ 
son,” said Miss Emily. “ What do you mean about 
looking angry ? ” 

“We had a quarrel,” confessed Betsy, looking up, 
but not rising from her lowly seat. “ I was mad be¬ 
cause she was at her cousin’s so much, and I twitted 
her with liking Ruth better than me. I—I—almost 
the same as told her to go home.” 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


183 


“ You could scarcely have been so rude as that,” said 
Miss Emily. “ When did this happen ? ” 

“ Yesterday, and, oh, I have been so unhappy about 
it. I didn’t see how she could ever forgive me, and I 
didn’t want any one else for first best though I told her 
I did.” 

“ It was all very foolish and childish,” asserted Miss 
Emily. “ You certainly could not expect Elizabeth to 
have no other friends but yourself. I am surprised 
that you should show such a jealous and unkind spirit. 
I am afraid your affection for Elizabeth is not very deep.” 

“ But it is, it is,” protested Betsy. “ It was because 
I loved her so much that I didn’t want her to like any 
one else better.” 

“ That was not real affection,” Miss Emily went on ; 
“ it was simply a love of self. You didn’t want Eliza¬ 
beth to enjoy herself except in your company, and in 
your way. You were not willing that she should have 
any pleasures in which you did not share. That was 
pure selfishness and not love.” 

Betsy sat looking very miserable. All her pride had 
vanished before the trouble that had overtaken Eliza¬ 
beth. “ I do love her, I do, I do,” she said presently, 
“ but I don’t suppose she will ever let me tell her so. 
I wish I had bitten my tongue off before I said the 
things I did.” 


184 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ That is a foolish wish,” corrected Miss Emily, “ but 
if you are truly sorry, and wish to ask Elizabeth to for¬ 
give your groundless jealousy, you should try to see 
her and tell her.” 

“ Do you think they would let me see her ? ” Betsy 
looked up imploringly at her brother. 

“They are keeping her very quiet in a darkened 
room,” he told her, “ but it would do no harm to ask.” 

“ Is it really so serious ? ” inquired Miss Emily. 

“ It is really, Dick told me. The doctor cannot tell 
yet just how much hope there is for her sight.” 

“ Dear, dear.” Miss Emily shook her head. “ I sin¬ 
cerely hope it may not be so bad as they fear. Let 
this be a lesson to you both, not to meddle with fire¬ 
arms.” 

Hal smiled. “It wasn’t firearms, Aunt Em,” he 
said, “ just a little powder.” 

“ Well, that is just as bad,” maintained Miss Emily. 
She regarded Hal as still a little boy who frequently 
needed lecturing. 

“ Will you go with me and ask if they will let me see 
her ? ” Betsy looked wistfully at her brother. 

“ Surely I will,” he returned heartily. “ I intended 
to go anyhow to inquire about her.” 

“ Can we go right now ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ As soon as you say.” 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


185 


“ You’d better take her some flowers,” remarked 
Miss Emily. “ Gather the sweetest ones you can find. 
She can enjoy the odor if she doesn’t see them.” 

Betsy’s lip quivered. The idea of Elizabeth lying 
there, hot able to see, was a bitter thought. She 
found the garden scissors and went forth to cut mi¬ 
gnonette, sweet peas, roses, and whatever else she could 
find which held fragrance. Elizabeth loved mignonette, 
Betsy remembered. 

Bearing her flowers carefully, hoping, yet dreading, 
to hear what might be said, Betsy entered the door of 
her friend’s home. Hal undertook to be spokesman 
for her. Kathie was the one who met them. Her 
pretty face wore a sad expression, and she looked as if 
she had been crying. “We came to inquire about 
Elizabeth and to ask if there is anything we can do 
for her or any of you,” Hal began. 

“ Thank you very much,” replied Kathie. “ She 
is a little more comfortable, but there is nothing to 
do just now. Later on we may have to call upon all 

our friends to—to-” Kathie stopped and the tears 

came to her eyes. 

“Don’t, please don’t,” begged Hal in distress at 
seeing her tears. “ It may not be as bad as you 
think.” 

“ We dare not hope yet,” replied Kathie. “ She is 



186 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

so dear and patient it breaks our hearts, and to hear 

her talk of what she means to do if—if-” She 

broke off again finding no voice to go on. 

“ Do you think I could see her ? ” asked Betsy. “ I 
have some flowers for her ; Aunt Em sent them.” 

“ Why, I think maybe you can see her for a few 
minutes. I will ask mother.” She went away and 
soon returned with the permission. “ Mother says 
you can see her for a few minutes, but please try not 
to make her cry or get excited. You must be as cheer¬ 
ful as you can.” 

Betsy nodded. “ I will try,” she promised, though 
she felt that it might be a difficult matter. 

“ You can go right up to mother’s room,” Kathie 
told her. 

Betsy’s heart was beating fast as she paused before 
the door of the room in which Elizabeth lay. Those 
within heard a timid little knock. “ Come in,” said 
Mrs. Hollins. 

Betsy opened the door and stood upon the sill. The 
room was quite dark and it took her a moment to dis¬ 
cover that Elizabeth lay on a couch by the window. 
“ It’s Betsy,” the visitor announced herself plaintively. 

Mrs. Hollins beckoned her to come nearer. 

“ Here are some flowers,” said Betsy holding out her 
bunch of sweet-smelling blossoms. 


HER PRECIOUS EYES 


187 


“ Oh, I can smell them.” Elizabeth sat up and held 
out her hand. 

Betsy placed them in her hand. With compressed 
lips she tried to keep back the tears which would start 
at sight of the bandaged eyes. For a moment she 
struggled, then with a catch in her voice she said, u I 
do love you so much, Elizabeth. I do love you better 
than any one except Hal. I was a horrid, mean, selfish 
thing to say the things I did.” 

“ I was horrid, too,” confessed Elizabeth. 

“ I didn’t send the letter to Bess,” Betsy went on. 
“ I couldn’t give you up. I want you for first best 
forever and ever.” 

“ I am so glad,” replied Elizabeth simply. “ I never 
wanted any one but you.” 

“ Is there anything I can do for you ? ” Betsy asked. 
“ I will do anything, anything in the world. Please 
tell me something very hard, very hard indeed, so I 
can feel that I am really doing something to please 
you and not myself.” Betsy spoke earnestly. 

“ The first thing you can do is to kiss me,” said 
Elizabeth, putting out her hand gropingly to find 
Betsy’s. 

In a moment Betsy was on her knees by the side of 
the couch, and their lips met. “ You do forgive me,” 
whispered Betsy. 


188 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ ’Course,” returned Elizabeth holding off her flowers 
to prevent their being crushed in Betsy’s ardent em¬ 
brace. 

“ Tell me what I can do,” repeated Betsy. 

Elizabeth pondered over the request. “ There is one 
thing you might do,” she said at last, “ but maybe you 
will think it is too hard.” 

“ If I can do it, nothing would be too hard,” re¬ 
turned Betsy fervently. 

“ Then if you would go to see Kuth and tell her it 
wasn’t her fault any more than mine. Tell her that I 
was older and I shouldn’t have taken her down there. 
She is crying herself sick, poor little drooped lamb, 
but I think if you were to see her, some one who could 
understand, maybe she would listen. Would you mind 
very much, Betsy ? She won’t listen to her mother 
nor to Kathie, because they are so much older, you 
see.” 

“ I don’t mind at all,” Betsy assured her steadfastly. 

“ I am going to send her one of these roses, if you 
don’t care,” Elizabeth went on. “Pick out a real 
pretty one, Betsy, and take it to her with my love.” 

Betsy did as she was bid, and then, as Mrs. Hollins 
said she must go, she gave Elizabeth a farewell kiss 
and went down-stairs more comforted than she could 
have believed possible. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


WEARY DAYS 

B ETSY succeeded in her mission quite as well as 
Elizabeth had prophesied, for she heartened Ruth 
to such a degree that the child promised that she would 
try to be cheerful for Elizabeth’s sake. “ You see,” 
said Betsy, “ it is selfish to make her unhappy, and we 
must do all we can to make it easier for her instead of 
harder. I had a quarrel with Elizabeth and I didn’t 
know that I loved her selfishly until Aunt Emily 
showed me I did. Xow I see if you really love persons 
you must do the things that will make them happy, 
no matter how much you feel like doing another 
way.” 

Ruth tried to take this in. “ Do you think it makes 
Elizabeth unhappy to know how dreadfully I feel?” 
she asked. 

“ I am sure of it,” Betsy spoke with decision. “ She 
told me you were crying yourself sick and that you 
didn’t understand that it was not your fault alto¬ 
gether.” 

“ It was my fault,” Ruth declared, 

X89 


190 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ It wasn’t yours all by yourself; it was the boys’ 
fault and a little bit of it was Elizabeth’s.” Betsy 
hated to acknowledge this but she must do her duty 
and speak the truth. 

Ruth sighed. “ I will try not to cry any more,” she 
promised, M if you say Elizabeth doesn’t want me to I 
will try very hard not to. Will you go back and tell 
her that I have stopped and that I send her my love 
and thank her for the lovely rose ? ” 

“ I will stop and tell her mother if I can’t tell her,” 
promised Betsy. “ That will do just as well.” 

“ Do you think I can see her to-morrow ? ” asked 
Ruth. “ I am her cousin, and they ought to let me see 
her. I am going to do everything I can for her, she is 
such a darling.” 

Betsy crushed back a little sneaking jealous pang. 
“ I am sure you should see her if any one does,” she 
said generously. 

“ You are so nice,” sighed Ruth. “ I didn’t think 
we were going to be friends, and I wanted to be.” 

“ Of course we are friends,” returned Betsy bravely. 
Then she could not help saying, “ Elizabeth is my first- 
best friend; she has been always, but you can be my 
third-best. Bess Ferguson is second, you know.” 

Ruth was perfectly content to be third best and, in¬ 
deed, considered herself highly honored to be given 


WEARY DAYS 


191 


this place. She put her arms around Betsy and kissed 
her. “ I am so glad you came,” she assured her. “ I 
feel so much better about everything.” 

Betsy took her leave with an exalted sense of having 
obeyed Elizabeth’s bequest to the letter, and though 
she was not allowed to see the invalid again that even¬ 
ing she knew that Elizabeth would be satisfied that 
Betsy had proved a trustworthy messenger. 

For twenty-four hours Elizabeth submitted patiently 
to having her eyes bandaged and to being confined in 
the darkened room, but after that she could not endure 
it with so good a grace. The hours seemed endless 
after she had recovered from the shock and was feeling 
as well as usual excepting so far as her eyes were con¬ 
cerned. At first every one was most solicitous and not 
a day passed but some neighbor either brought or sent 
her flowers, fruit, or some dainty. But in time even 
these ceased, and few came to help her pass the weary 
hours. Poor Patsy McGonigle had come more than 
once with a handful of wild flowers, a little hoard of 
wild raspberries, or something of that kind. Once he 
appeared with a squirrel which he had captured, but 
which Elizabeth promptly liberated, and at another 
time his offering was a song sparrow, which was given 
its freedom quite as promptly. 

Bert, after many struggles with himself, finally an- 


192 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

nounced to Elizabeth that she could have Bouncer if 
she wanted him. He was greatly relieved at his sister’s 
refusal to accept the gift, but he made the reservation 
that if she did not recover her sight she must take the 
dog whether or no. “ You may need him,” said Bert 
darkly, a remark which did not tend to make Eliza¬ 
beth any happier. Failing to gain her acceptance of 
Bouncer, Bert took it upon himself to entertain Eliza¬ 
beth for a specified period every day and laboriously 
read aloud to her. He was not a gifted reader, and 
his weary sighs often brought the hour to an abrupt 
close. 

But the three to whose coming Elizabeth did look 
forward with the greatest pleasure were, first Betsy, 
then Ruth, next Ruth’s grandfather. With Betsy 
Elizabeth could invent games capable of being carried 
on by a person who could not see. Ruth was less re¬ 
sponsive, but she did her best. One day she came in 
with something which she put down in her cousin’s 
lap. “ Guess what it is ? ” she cried. 

“ It is something quite heavy and warm,” returned 
Elizabeth. “ It moves, too. Is it a puppy ? ” 

“ No,” Ruth laughed. “ Don’t feel it quite yet,” she 
went on. “ Guess again.” 

“ A kitten. No, it is too heavy for that.” She put 
out her hand and laid it on something with smooth fur, 


WEARY DAYS 


193 


then she passed her hand along the creature’s body. 
“ I know,” she cried. “ It is a rabbit. O Ruth, is it a 
white one ? ” 

“ Yes, and it is for you.” 

“ For me ? How lovely! I have always wanted a 
white rabbit ever since 1 saw yours.” 

“ This is very tame,” Ruth assured her. “ I brought 
the tamest one.” 

“ Oh, did you bring me one of yours ? You mustn’t 
do that, Ruth; the other one will be so lonely.” 

“ Ho, it won’t,” declared Ruth, “ for it has a lot of 
little ones.” 

“ How perfectly cunning and dear! I do wish I 
could see them,” Elizabeth sighed, “ but,” she added, “ I 
am very glad to have this one. I hope Dick will make 
a house for it.” 

The rabbit served to amuse her during that day, but 
she could not keep it in her room, and the next day the 
weariness of idle moments again overcame her. “ I 
can’t even write poetry,” she complained to her mother, 
“ because I go over the same line. I did that the last 
time and Betsy couldn’t read it.” She made the same 
complaint to old Mr. Gilmore, who visited her daily. 
He could not read aloud to her, to be sure, but he could 
tell her stories, and she entertained him the same way. 
There was a great bond of sympathy between the two 


194 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


because neither could make use of books, papers, or 
such helps toward passing weary hours. Elizabeth was 
not allowed down-stairs in the light as yet, but in the 
dusk of the evening she could sit out on the upper 
porch, and it was here that Mr. Gilmore usually joined 
her. A few days after the gift of the rabbit Mr. Gil¬ 
more came in much earlier that usual. Ruth was with 
him. Elizabeth heard a rustling of paper, some excited 
whispering, and then Ruth took her hand to guide her 
across the room. “ Come over here and feel what 
grandfather has brought you,” she exclaimed. 

Elizabeth allowed herself to be taken across to where 
a table stood. She was placed in a chair and her hands 
were laid upon an object before her. “ What is it ? ” she 
asked passing her hands over an unfamiliar something. 

For answer Ruth took one of her fingers, pressed it 
down upon a round key; there was a click. “JThat is 
A,” Ruth informed her. 

“ Oh ! ” Elizabeth cried. “ I know ; it is a type¬ 
writer.” 

“ Just like grandfather’s,” Ruth went on. 

“ But how can I use it ? ” 

“ You will soon learn,” Mr. Gilmore told her. 
“ Some one is coming every day to teach you. Do you 
like it ? ” 

“ I think it is wonderful,” declared Elizabeth, 


WEARY DAYS 


195 


“ How good you are. Betsy can show me how, for she 
knows about the one in her uncle’s office. I believe it 
is just like this. What fun we can have. I will write 
you a letter first thing, you dear Grandfather Gil.” 

The typewriter did prove the greatest source of com¬ 
fort. With a few lessons and with Betsy on hand to 
watch, Elizabeth soon was able to write a fairly pre¬ 
sentable page. Mr. Tyson was interested in her prog¬ 
ress, and he came more than once to give her a lesson. 
Dick was glad to learn, too, and consequently spent 
more time in his sister’s room. 

But in time even the novelty of the typewriter wore 
off. “ One can’t be writing poetry and letters all the 
time,” Elizabeth told her mother. “ If I can never see 
again, I suppose I shall be glad enough to use it, so I’d 
better not wear it out in the beginning.” 

“ That is rather a morbid way of looking at it,” re¬ 
turned her mother. 

“ Do you really believe I shall be able to see again ? ” 
Elizabeth asked after a moment’s silence. She had been 
trying for some days to make up her mind to ask this 
question. 

Her mother did not answer for a moment. To dis¬ 
courage the child would be hard, and perhaps it would 
be unwise to encourage her unduly. She drew Eliza¬ 
beth very close in her arms, “ I cm only say as the 


196 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

doctor does; we hope so. But, darling, even if it turns 
out that you cannot see again, you will be able to do a 
great many things. There are books with raised letters 
for the blind, and many other devices to help them. 
Already you see what you can do with your type¬ 
writer.” 

Elizabeth put her head down on her mother’s 
shoulder. She had never given up hope, but her 
mother’s words suggested the possibility of her having 
to accept a life of darkness. She struggled hard to 
keep back bitter and rebellious thoughts. Her mother 
knew intuitively what was passing in the child’s mind. 
Neither spoke for some time, then Mrs. Hollins said: 
“ Dear old Mr. Gilmore has the sure prospect of losing 
his sight, and yet you see how cheerful he is and how 
much he does to make others happy.” 

“ Yes; but he is old,” replied Elizabeth, “ and he 
hasn’t his whole long, long life to look forward to.” 

“ Dear child,” her mother murmured. 

“ It would be dreadful for you, wouldn’t it, mother ? 
Would you love me just as much if I couldn’t see ? ” 

“ My darling, I think I should love you even more, if 
that were possible. You mustn’t look forward to un¬ 
happiness even if the worst must come. It seems a 
strange fact that the blind are usually very happy. I 
have never seen one who was not.” 


WEARY DAYS 


197 


Elizabeth passed her hand gently over her mother’s 
face. “ I am glad I have seen you,” she said, “ for I 
shall always remember just how you look. Do you 
think I could ever forget, mother ? ” 

“ I am sure you would always keep the memory of 
those things that are dearest to you.” 

Elizabeth sighed. “ That is much better than never 
to have seen at all, isn’t it ? ” 

“ That is the way to look at it, my blessed child. 
Now that we have had this talk it will not seem so 
hard to hear the doctor’s decision, will it ? ” 

“ But I can hope a little bit, can’t I ? ” asked Eliza* 
beth wistfully. 

“We can all hope, but we must be prepared for dis¬ 
appointment, that is all, dearest child.” 

Just here they heard laughing voices on the stairway 
and presently Dick came to the door. “ May we come 
in ? ” he asked. 

“ Who are ‘we’?” asked Elizabeth sitting up. 

“ Hal, and your large brother Richard.” 

“Come right in. They may do it, mayn’t they, 
mother ? ” 

Mrs. Hollins gave the permission. There was some 
scuffling, and an order in an undertone: “ Set it right 
here, Hal.” Then there was a queer little buzzing 
noise and presently a voice which sounded like Betsy’s, 


198 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

only in a strange key, said: “ How are you, Eliza¬ 
beth?” 

“ What is it ? Who is it ? ” asked Elizabeth groping 
her way across the room. “ What makes you speak in 
that funny way, Betsy ? ” 

The boys laughed. “ Give us some more,” said 
Dick in an aside. 

The same voice continued: “ ElizafotfA, ElizafotfA, I’ll 
love her while I draw my breath.” 

“ That isn’t Betsy,” cried Elizabeth. “ It sounds like 
a phonograph.” 

There was another laugh and a voice at Elizabeth’s 
elbow said very naturally: “Here’s Betsy.” 

With a quick movement Elizabeth put out her hand 
and grabbed the person from whom the voice came. 

“ Elizabeth, I had a letter from Bess to-day and she’s 
coming home Saturday.” The unnatural voice spoke. 

With another rapid movement Elizabeth drew Betsy 
closer and passed her hand over her face to find her 
mouth. “ It isn’t Betsy at all,” she cried triumphantly, 
“ but how could any one imitate her so well ? I believe 
you are doing it, Hal Tyson.” 

“ No, I am not. Upon my word I am not,” he pro¬ 
tested. 

“ Then it is Dick. O Dick, I didn’t know you were 
a ventriloquist.” 


WEARY DAYS 199 

At this every one laughed again, delighted at her 
bewilderment. 

By this time Elizabeth was tired of being puzzled. 
“ I think you might tell me,” she said. 

“Just wait a minute and we will,” promised Hal. 
“ Listen to this.” 

Elizabeth listened to hear another voice say: “ Good¬ 
morning, Elizabeth. Any contracts to annul to-day? 
When are you going to be able to come to my office ? 
I’ll celebrate the day you can come.” 

“ Why, that’s Mr. Tyson,” exclaimed Elizabeth. “ Is 
he here, too ? ” 

“ No,” Betsy was quick to tell her. 

“ Then please tell me what you all are doing.” 

“ Shall we, Betsy ? ” Hal asked. 

“Oh, yes, don’t keep her guessing any longer; it 
isn’t fair. She will enjoy it just as much after she 
knows,” Betsy answered. 

“ All right, Elizabeth,” Hal began. “ It’s this way; 
we’ve been making records to surprise you. That was 
really Betsy’s voice you heard and that was Uncle 
Rob’s. We’ve made a lot more, and I’m going to 
leave the phonograph here, so when we aren’t around 
you can still hear us talk.” 

“ How perfectly fine ! ” Elizabeth exclaimed. “ I do 
think you all do the loveliest things to entertain me. 


200 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AKD BESS 

Dick, won’t you call up Grandfather Gil so he can 
come and hear, too ? ” 

“That’s just like Elizabeth, she always wants Grand¬ 
father Gil to share everything with her,” said Dick. 
“I believe she’d like to eat her breakfast turn and 
turn about with him.” However, he went off to give 
her message, returning presently to say that Mr. Gil¬ 
more was not in but they would deliver the message 
when he returned. Meanwhile Elizabeth was enter¬ 
tained with more home-made records, a speech from 
Dan, a camp-meeting hymn from Aunt Darky, a col¬ 
lege song with a rousing chorus from several boys. 

“It is as good as a serenade,” declared Elizabeth. “ I 
don’t see how you ever thought of it.” 

“It was Uncle Kob’s idea,” Hal told her. “We 
were talking of you and how hard it was that you 
must be shut up in a dark room all day, and how we 
all liked to think up new and original ways of amusing 
you, then he proposed our making these records.” 

After going over the whole repertory the boys took 
their leave while Betsy stayed on. With so much at¬ 
tention Elizabeth was in danger of getting a little 
spoiled. She took rather a high hand with Betsy as 
well as with Ruth and Babs, sometimes, but they all 
submitted with a very good grace, although Babs ex¬ 
pressed her opinion by saying, “Just wait till you can 


WEARY DAYS 201 

see, you Miss ’Lizabes, and zen I won’t has to do ev’ysing 
you say.” 

Even ’Lectra allowed herself to pamper Elizabeth 
more than usual and was continually setting aside 
something special for her, or would take time to pre¬ 
pare a dish which she knew would please this important 
member of the household. So the days rolled by and 
summer was nearly over when Elizabeth learned her 
fate. 


CHAPTER. XV 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 

I N due course of time Bess returned. She displayed 
several new frocks and brought her two friends each 
a pretty string of beads for her neck. Elizabeth’s was 
amber and Betsy’s was red. Elizabeth fingered hers 
wistfully. “ I wish I could see it,” she said. 

“ You will pretty soon,” Bess said cheerfully. 
Elizabeth shook her head. “ I don’t know. I am 
afraid to count on it.” Bess cast up her eyes and shook 
her head mournfully at Betsy. 

“ Oh, I am sure you can,” Bess spoke with confidence, 
but as she and Betsy walked away together she asked : 
“ Do you think there is any doubt of Elizabeth’s getting 
back her sight ? I didn’t suppose for one minute that 
there was.” 

“ There is some doubt, of course,” Betsy answered. 
“ The doctor is coming this week to make an examina¬ 
tion and then he can tell. They are having a specialist 
from the city, because Dr. Fowler thought it would be 
safer.” 

“ Poor Elizabeth ! ” sighed Bess. “ Now all her 
202 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


203 


dreams of going to the Academy will have to be given 
up, and she can never go around with her friends as 
she used to.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked Betsy fiercely. “ Do you sup¬ 
pose I shall give her up just because she can’t see ? 
She is just the same Elizabeth as she was before.” 

“ Yes, but we would have to lead her everywhere, 
and besides I suppose she would have to go somewhere * 
that they have teaching for the blind ; she could never 
study with us.” % . 

“ I hadn’t thought of that,” returned Betsy in a low 
voice. “ If that happens I shall beg Aunt Em to send 
me away to school, too, for I could never go to the 
Academy without Elizabeth. What are you going to 
do, Bess ? ” 

“ Oh, I suppose I shall go back to Miss Dunbar ; it 
hasn’t been talked about since I came back. What 
I should like best would be to go to some school in the 
city where my new friends go. I met such a lot of nice 
girls, Betsy. This certainly does seem a poky old place 
after a gay seaside resort. Nobody dresses stylishly 
and it looks so queer.” 

Betsy was disposed to resent this speech. “ It is a 
pity you couldn’t stay with your stylish friends,” she 
said sarcastically. 

“ Oh, well, I didn’t mean you, of course,” Betsy has- 


204 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

tened to modify her remarks. “ Present company is al¬ 
ways excepted. Come on in, Betsy, and let’s see if 
Aunt Darky has anything good to eat. We had such 
lovely things at the hotel; ice-cream every day. One 
finds it hard to come down to a home table of every¬ 
day fare.” 

“Uncle Rob says he hates hotel fare,” responded 
Betsy. “ He says there is nothing equal to what one 
gets at home, and he ought to know.” 

“ Oh, of course, I don’t mean that we never have 
good things, for Aunt Darky is really a very good cook, 
but we don’t have ice-cream every day and all the fancy 
things they had at the shore.” 

Betsy made no reply. If Bess continued to put on 
airs and to refer to the shore all the time she would be 
more tiresome than ever, Betsy reflected. She was glad 
when Bess changed the subject. 

“What do you think of Ruth Gilmore?” asked 
Bess. 

“ She is a very nice little girl,” Betsy hastened to 
say. “ She is my third best friend.” 

“ Oh, is she ? I thought she was ever so much 
younger.” Bess seemed to be surprised. 

“ She is only a year and a half younger. She is go¬ 
ing to the Academy. That is why they moved here, at 
least it is one reason. Her grandfather has bought a 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


205 


new car so she can be sent easily. Elizabeth was go¬ 
ing, too, and maybe I could.” 

“ Oh, I wonder if they would take me in,” said Bess 
for whom this means of getting to school had charms. 

“Elizabeth said Ruth’s grandfather told her she 
could take in as many as the car would hold comfort¬ 
ably, so perhaps you could go.” 

“ Who will run the car ? ” asked Bess showing a keen 
interest. 

“ The chauffeur. His name is Martin.” 

“ Grandma says the Gilmores are a great addition to 
Brookdale,” remarked Bess. “ She and mamma are 
going to call. I shall ask them to take me so I can 
call on Ruth. I have some calling cards, Betsy. 
Mamma got them for me in the city.” 

Betsy and Elizabeth had not reached the dignity of 
engraved cards. Once in a while they took it into 
their heads to make a round of formal calls, just for the 
“ grown-upness ” of it, Elizabeth said, but on these oc¬ 
casions they used simple cards upon which they wrote 
their names. Bess was certainly becoming a very ele¬ 
gant young lady, Betsy reflected. 

They found Aunt Darky had nothing better than 
some sugar cakes to offer, at which Bess complained. 
“ These plain little things,” she said scornfully. “ I 
don’t believe I can eat them after what I have been 


206 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

having. Why, there were macaroons on the table every 
day.” 

“You go ’long,” returned Aunt Darky wrathfully. 
“ What’s good enough fo’ yuh gran’ma is good enough 
fo’ yuh-alls. Law, chile, yuh is fa’r spiled. Maca¬ 
roons, humph! Ef yuh gits good braid an’ butter 
and plenty of it yuh can thank yo good Lord and 
Marster. Some o’ dese days yuh gwine look back 
an’ say I done ’spise Mammy’s nice little cakes an’ 
now I wushes I had ’em. Mebbe yuh astin’ fo’ a crus’ 
o’ braid yit.” 

This awful prophecy had the effect of silencing 
Bess’s complaints and she meekly accepted the plate 
of cakes offered her. “ Let’s take them up in my room 
and we can eat them while I show you my new 
frocks,” said she to Betsy. This parade was enjoyed 
more by Bess than by Betsy, but it served to pass 
away the time, and then Betsy decided that she must 
go home. 

“Some one has been wanting you at the ’phone,” 
Norah told her. “ There wasn’t annybody at home, 
I told thim, an’ says they whin she do be cornin’ in, 
tell Miss Betsy she’s wanted by the Hollinses.” 

“ Oh, then it is Elizabeth. It must be something 
particular, for I was there not so very long ago.” 
Betsy hurried to call up her friend, It was Dick who 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


207 


answered, but Elizabeth came almost immediately. 
“ Did you want to speak to me ? ” Betsy asked. 

“ Yes,” came the answer. “ Can you come up this 
afternoon ? It is something very particular.” 

“ Why, I think I can. I must ask Aunt Em, I sup¬ 
pose. What time do you want me ? ” 

“The doctor’s coming about four o’clock, not Dr. 
Fowler, but Dr. Venable.” 

“ O Elizabeth ! ” 

“Yes, and I shall know. I want you to be here, 
because if I can see, I want to look at you next after 
mother, and ”—there was a little pause—“ if I can’t 
see I shall want you to—to comfort me.” 

“ O Elizabeth ! ” was all Betsy could say. It was 
an occasion for which she could find no other words. 

“Of course we are all awfully excited,” Elizabeth 
went on. “ I long for the hour, yet I dread it with 
unspeakableness. You will be here, won’t you ? ” 

“ Oh, I will, I will. I am sure there will be no ob¬ 
jection from Aunt Emily when she knows. If she 
doesn’t come in before the time, I will see Uncle Rob, 
and that will be all right.” 

“ Then good-bye till the fatal hour.” 

While Betsy was waiting for her aunt’s return 
Elizabeth passed the time restlessly. Her mother, 
scarcely less nervous, busied herself with trifles. Mr. 


208 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Hollins, leaving all outside affairs, paced the floor of 
the sitting-room. Dick locked himself in his room. 
Kathie tiptoed about, silencing Babs sharply if she 
became too noisy. Bert worked off his feelings by 
wild flights around the house, Bouncer at his heels. It 
was a trying hour for every one. 

Just before four Betsy made her appearance. There 
was a little catch in Elizabeth’s voice as she greeted her. 
Betsy herself had no words. She could only put her 
arms around her friend and give her a bearlike hug. 
“ O Betsy, Betsy, pray for me, pray for me,” whis¬ 
pered Elizabeth quaveringly. 

Betsy’s onty reply was a closer hug. 

At four o’clock Bert came rushing in. “ They’re 
coming,” he said. “ My, but you all look solemn! ” 

“Hush, sir,” commanded his father who had fol¬ 
lowed him up-stairs. 

Bert gave one look at the grave faces around him, 
and then darted off to hide his own feelings in the 
barn. 

“ Mother! ” Elizabeth sat very still. 

Her mother went to her and the child nestled her 
hand in the tender one which clasped hers. 

A piping little voice in the doorway cried : “ What 
is you all doing ? ” Then Kathie hustled Babs off to 
Electra, protestations accompanying her all the way. 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


209 


An automobile stopped at the gate. Mr. Hollins 
left the room to meet the two doctors who stepped 
from it. Presently their voices were heard on the 
stairs. Next Elizabeth heard some one say very 
kindly: “Well, little girl, shall we look at those 
eyes ? ” 

Elizabeth clutched her mother’s hand in a fierce grip. 
The moment had come. 

“ There, there,” said the doctor, “ don’t get nervous. 
Now then, Mrs. Hollins, we will take off the bandage.” 

Betsy, on the other side of the room, held her breath. 
Kathie joined her father and hung on to his arm. 
There was a complete silence for a moment. The 
bandage dropped into Elizabeth’s lap. 

Even the doctor looked grave and pale. “ Now,” he 
said. 

Neither Elizabeth nor her mother realized how tight 
the clutch of one another’s hands. Elizabeth turned 
her face toward her mother and slowly opened her 
eyes. Then rang out a cry which went to the heart 
of every one in the room. “ I can see! I can see! 
Mother! Father! I can see ! ” 

Mrs. Hollins fairly broke down and sobbed aloud. 
With one stride Mr. Hollins reached her and Elizabeth 
where they sat side by side. He folded them both in 
his arms, kneeling down by the couch upon which they 


210 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

sat. “ Thank God! ” he said in a low tense tone. 
“ Thank God! Don’t, dear, don’t.” He tried to 
soothe his wife who sobbed hysterically. 

Old Dr. Fowler, who had known them all their lives, 
stood by the window blowing his nose vigorously as he 
pretended to look out. 

Kathie with shining eyes came over to her mother. 
“ What a time to cry,” she said. “ I feel like laughing 
myself.” Her lips twitched and there was a suspicious 
moisture in her eyes, which showed how near the sur¬ 
face tears were in spite of her bravado. 

“ Betsy! Where’s Betsy ? ” said Elizabeth. 

“Queen Elizabeth desires an audience with Miss 
Tyson,” said Kathie gaily. 

Betsy came forward and stood looking down at her 
first-best friend. 

“ You dear Betsy,” said Elizabeth, “ you look just the 
same.” 

Dr. Yenable laughed. “ Did you expect her to change 
perceptibly in these few weeks ? ” he asked. 

“ Only a few weeks! ” exclaimed Elizabeth. “ It has 
been a lifetime.” 

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if it did seem so,” replied 
the doctor more seriously. “ Now then, Mrs. Hollins, 
although the eyes have healed nicely and the sight is 
absolutely safe it will be better to allow the patient to 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


211 


become accustomed to the light gradually. She will 
have to wear a pair of dark glasses for a while, and 
she’d better be careful about too brilliant light. Of 
course she must not use her eyes yet.” 

“ But I may go out of this room, mayn’t I ? ” asked 
Elizabeth. 

“Not at the very first. You must be careful and 
not strain these precious eyes, now that you know how 
precious they are. I think the glasses will be concession 
enough for this first day. To-morrow you can go into 
a little less dimly lighted room. Take it slowly at first. 
Your mother knows, and can tell you. I have a pair of 
glasses with me that you can put on. I think you’d 
better not expose your eyes any longer without them.” 

He fitted the glasses to Elizabeth’s needs, and she 
looked at his kind face interestedly. “ Just think,” she 
said, “ all this time I didn’t know what you looked like, 
Dr. Yenable. I used to try to imagine. You are much 
younger than I thought, but you are not so tall. Not 
that I mind,” she hastened to say. “ You must be a 
giant in intellect.” 

The doctor laughed heartily. “That is a compli¬ 
ment,” he said, “ but I am afraid you exaggerate my 
stature in that respect.” 

Elizabeth was not disposed to agree with this. 
“ That is because you are so modest,” she returned. 


212 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Dr. Fowler joined in the laugh which followed. “ I 
think we’d better get you out of here, Venable,” he 
said, “ or you will cut me out in this young lady’s good 
graces. I am perfectly willing to accord you all due 
praise, but when it comes to such an avalanche of com¬ 
plimentary speeches I think you’d better leave.” 

“I hope you will not need me again,” said Dr. 
Venable to Elizabeth, “ but if you do, I shall be most 
heartily glad to do what I can for you.” He shook 
hands and the two doctors, still laughing and joking, 
took their leave. 

For a few moments Elizabeth sat looking very 
serious. “ What are you thinking about that you are 
so grave ? ” asked her mother. 

“ I was thinking that we might all have been sighing 
instead of laughing,” said she. “ O mother, I am so 
thankful, so thankful! I don’t believe I told Dr. 
Venable how much I thanked him.” 

“ I am sure he understood,” her mother assured her. 

“ Where are the boys ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ I am sure I don’t know,” her mother said. “ I 
suspect they did not want us to spy upon their emotions. 
We must give them the good news.” 

“And dear little Babs, I want to see her and 
Electra, too.” 

Kathie was despatched to hunt up these missing 


WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID 


213 


members of the family and speedily brought in Babs, 
who gazed at Elizabeth with round eyes of amazement. 
She was disposed to back away from the queer dark 
glasses. “ I doesn’t ’ike ’Lizabes to do so. I don’t ’ike 
zose funny big eyes,” she declared, but finally she con¬ 
sented to come nearer so Elizabeth could look at her, 
but she was fain to go back to the kitchen with 
Electra. “ I is makin’ bisets,” she informed her sister. 

Bert, with red eyes, came in with rather an abashed 
air. He didn’t want to show how glad he was, and said 
rather roughly: “ Halloo, don’t you look pretty with 
those black things on ? You haven’t got to wear them 
all your life, have you ? ” 

“ Only for a little while,” Elizabeth told him. 

Bert sat wriggling in his chair for a few minutes dur¬ 
ing which time he regarded his sister fixedly. Finally 
he made a bolt for the door, but he came back to put in 
his head and say : “ I’m awfully glad ; you bet I am,” 
then off he went. 

Dick did better. He came running down-stairs as 
soon as he saw the doctors going. “ I watched them to 
see which way the wind blew,” he said. “ When I 
saw how jolly they were I knew it was all right. How 
goes it, kid ? ” He went up and stood before his little 
sister. 

“ O Dick, I can see ! ” Elizabeth spoke ecstatically. 


214 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ That’s what they tell me. I say, kid, I wish I could 
tell you how glad I am. I reckon we haven’t any of 
us been letting you know just how rough on you we 
thought it.” He bent over and kissed Elizabeth’s 
cheek, an unusual demonstration on the part of Dick. 

Before night the news was all over town. The ring¬ 
ing of the telephone was as frequent as the ringing of 
the door-bell, and congratulations were as many as 
condolences had been. Therefore it was a very tired 
Elizabeth who closed her eyes that night. “Nor 
powers of darkness me molest,” she murmured as she 
turned over before going to sleep. “ They will not do 
that any more,” she added. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 

B Y degrees Elizabeth was able to take her place 
with the family, and next came the joy of out¬ 
door life, then in time everything was as it used to be. 
Bess had struck up a great friendship with Ruth, so 
that Betsy and Elizabeth were together more than 
ever. Ruth’s father had made many improvements in 
the new place and these Elizabeth was fain to see as 
soon as might be. She particularly admired the flock 
of sheep which grazed in a bit of rocky pasture. “ I 
always did want a pet lamb like Barbara Let h waite’s,” 
she said to Ruth. 

“ Who is she ? ” asked Ruth innocently. “ Does she 
live here ? I never met her, did I ? ” 

Elizabeth laughed. “ Oh, you misinformed little 
child! Of course she doesn’t live here. She lives 
in a book of poems. The poem is called ‘The Pet 
Lamb ’; it is one of my favorites. I will read it to 
you some day. I know it ’most by heart, but there 
are a few lines I can’t remember. I know that Barbara 
Lethwaite was ‘ a child of beauty rare.’ ” 

215 


216 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

Buth was much impressed. “You know so much 
poetry,” she said. “ I know scarcely any.” 

“ I like it,” Elizabeth asserted, “ especially when it is 
about animals. There is one that begins: ‘ Swallow, 
thou dear one,’ that I think is lovely. We had some 
swallows in the old chimney before father had the wire 
put over it, and one day a baby one fell down into 
the fireplace. I tried to raise it and I used to repeat, 
‘ Swallow, thou dear one,’ to it every day, but it was 
no use, for it died.” Elizabeth sighed sentimentally. 
“ Don’t you think your father will let you have a pet 
lamb ? ” she asked. 

“ Maybe so. I’ll ask him some day.” 

The two were playing down by the arbor which had 
become a favorite spot. Buth and Bess had many a 
tea party there, and here, in the long summer after¬ 
noons, they would sit with their fancy work. Buth 
had never penetrated to the thicket of mountain cher¬ 
ries since the fatal day of the accident, and vowed she 
would never go there again. 

Just now Elizabeth tried to persuade her. “ Come 
on,” she said encouragingly. 

Buth shook her head. “ No, I never want to see 
that place again.” 

“ But why ? The mountain cherries had nothing to 
do with the gunpowder; that doesn’t grow on bushes.” 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 


217 


Ruth shook her head again. “ No, I don’t care 
where it grows. There are plenty of places I like 
better, and besides Bess will be coming over and she 
won’t know where to look for us.” 

“ Oh, very well, if Bess is coming you won’t miss 
me,” declared Elizabeth, “so I’ll go exploring. If I 
don’t come back you may know a gunpowder bush has 
gone off with a pop.” 

“ How can you joke about such awful things ? ” re¬ 
turned Ruth, making no effort to follow her cousin 
this time. 

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, anyhow there is gun¬ 
powder tea, so who knows but it grows on a gun¬ 
powder bush ? ” She went off leaving Ruth to wait 
for Bess. The clump of bushes was easy to find. 
Elizabeth made her way through it and again came 
out upon the stone wall. This time she did not run 
down the hill, but picked her way along through bram¬ 
bles and growths of tall weeds, bent on discovering 
where the wall ended. It took a sudden curve, she 
found, and at last joined another wall enclosing a field 
which looked familiar. 

Elizabeth stood still and looked around. “Well, I 
declare,” she exclaimed, “ if this isn’t our own land. 
I didn’t know that any of the Gilmore place joined 
ours. There’s the old apple tree, sure enough. 1 


218 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

must go see whether the boys have left any apples 
on it.” 

She climbed the wall and plowed through a growth 
of weeds and then came upon smoother ground. This 
had been an old orchard, but only two or three trees 
were left standing. Once in a while Mr. Hollins turned 
cattle into the field, and he kept it mowed so it was not 
difficult walking. Reaching the apple tree Elizabeth 
found that a number of the early apples had ripened 
and would not be hard to reach. She knocked these 
down with a stick, gathered them up, and went off 
toward a flat stone which offered a sufficiently com¬ 
fortable seat. On the way she heard the tinkle of a 
bell, and, looking up, she saw, standing on the wall, 
head down and eyes fixed upon her, a big woolly sheep; 
the bell it wore was the one she had heard. 

For all her longing for a pet lamb Elizabeth was dis¬ 
posed to resent the intrusion of the sheep. She picked 
up a stick and advanced threateningly. “ Get out of 
here,” she cried. “ You’ll eat up every blessed thing 
in sight. Keep your own side the fence.” 

For answer the sheep leaped nimbly down, made one 
sudden thrust at her and over Elizabeth went, surprised 
beyond measure. She was not hurt and promptly at¬ 
tempted to rise, but there stood the sheep ready for a 
second attack. Elizabeth lay back again, watching the 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 


219 


animal from between half-closed eyes. Seeing that she 
did not stir, the sheep moved olf a little way and began 
to nibble the grass. Elizabeth started up again, man¬ 
aging to gain her feet when the sheep promptly made 
a sudden lunge and over she went again. This was not 
pleasant, and the victim of the creature’s attacks began 
to wonder how she was going to get away. 

“I certainly don’t want to lie here all night,” she 
said to herself, “ and if I move the old thing will butt 
me again. I didn’t know they could be so mean. I 
don’t believe I want a lamb after all.” The sheep was 
watching her and she made no attempt to get up again. 
“ I wish you’d keep your green eyes to yourself,” com¬ 
plained Elizabeth. “ Why don’t you go eat the nice 
grass instead of standing there eyeing me ? I’m not go¬ 
ing to hurt you.” 

If the sheep could have understood, it might have 
said that it could attend to any hurting that was to be 
done, but it merely stood there blinking and once in a 
while moving its stump of a tail. 

“ I have heard that if you keep perfectly still an 
animal will not touch you, for they won’t attack any 
dead person. I am going to try it.” She composed 
herself, rigidly closed her eyes, and lay absolutely mo¬ 
tionless. The sheep kept guard for some time and then 
by degrees began to increase the distance between them. 


220 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

While Elizabeth was carrying out her plan she heard 
a sudden exclamation. “ For pity’s sake, Elizabeth, 
are you hurt ? ” 

Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Bert standing near 
and looking the alarm he felt. “ No, I’m not hurt,” 
she said sitting up, “ at least not much, though that old 
sheep knocked me down I don’t know how many times. 
It wouldn’t go away and so I played ’possum to fool 
it. Has it gone ? ” 

“ It’s on the wall.” 

“ Then let’s get away before it comes back.” 

“ O pshaw ! I’m not afraid of a sheep.” 

“ You’d better be,” his sister warned him. 

For answer Bert picked up a big stick and advanced 
boldly toward the animal. “ You come, too,” he sug¬ 
gested to Elizabeth. “ Maybe when it sees two against 
one it will go.” 

But Elizabeth was not tempted to invite another at¬ 
tack and so kept in the background. But whether it 
was Bert’s very big stick or the sound of his shouts the 
sheep decided to vacate and presently leaped back into 
its own pasture. 

“ I don’t see why it didn’t do that for me when I 
ordered it,” said Elizabeth. 

“ Because you’re a girl,” returned Bert as if that ex¬ 
plained everything. 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 


221 


“ Well, I’m not going to stay here, for it might take 
it into its head to come back. I wouldn’t advise you 
to, either.” 

“ I’m going to stay long enough to get some apples,” 
returned Bert. “ Patsy and I are going to make a fire 
and roast them. I’ve some sweet potatoes, too.” 

“ Where are you going to make the fire ? ” 

“We were going to make it here. Patsy has gone off 
to get some roasting ears, and we’re going to have a 
fine feast. If you’ll stay and keep watch of the sheep, 
we’ll give you some.” 

Elizabeth deliberated. She would like the rustic 
feast, but she did not want another encounter with the 
sheep. She decided to offer a compromise. “ If you’ll 
let me sit on the wall on the other side, and will make 
your fire near there, I’ll stay and watch,” she told Bert. 

“ I didn’t suppose you were such a ’fraid cat.” 

“Well, I reckon if you’d been butted over two or 
three times you’d be no braver than I am,” retorted 
Elizabeth. “ I don’t believe I’ll stay after all, for I ex¬ 
pect Ruth will be wondering what has happened. She’s 
afraid I will get mixed up in a gunpowder bush.” 
Then without any further explanation she ran off, 
climbed the further wall, and was going back to Ruth 
by the road when she met Betsy. 

“ I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” cried Betsy. 


222 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ Where have you been ? Uncle Eob wants us to come 
to his office to celebrate. He says he has intended all 
along to have us come, but has been too busy. It is to 
celebrate your recovery, he says.” 

“ I do remember he said something about it ever so 
long ago. What is he going to do, Betsy ? ” 

“ I don’t know, but he said we were to come. We’d 
better hurry for he may be waiting.” 

With this pleasing prospect in view Elizabeth forgot 
all about Euth and turned back with Betsy, the two 
chattering all the way. “ I have something very se¬ 
rious to tell you, but I shall wait till after the celebra¬ 
tion,” Betsy said. 

“ Please tell me now,” begged Elizabeth. 

“No, I can’t, but you must prepare yourself for a 
bitter disappointment. Of course it isn’t absolutely 
unalterable, but I am afraid it has got to be.” 

“ The only thing that is unalterable is the laws of 
the Medes and Persians,” returned Elizabeth. “ I don’t 
know exactly what they are; they always seem very 
mysterious, but if this isn’t one of them maybe it can 
be altered if it is very bad.” 

“You’ll think it is bad when I tell you,” returned 
Betsy darkly. 

“ O dear, you make me quake in my boots,” returned 
Elizabeth. “ What fearsome thing threatens us, Betsy ? ” 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 


223 


“ Wait, shivering soul,” returned Betsy. “ There is 
no use in clouding your young life before it is necessary. 
In the meantime we can eat, drink, and be merry.” 

“ Are we going to eat and drink ? ” asked Elizabeth 
coming down to material things. 

“ I think so, for Uncle Rob asked Aunt Em to send 
over some plates and spoons to his office. I shouldn’t 
wonder if we had ice-cream.” 

“.I hope it will be chocolate,” said Elizabeth with 
satisfaction. 

Betsy was right in her conjectures, for when they 
reached Mr. Tyson’s office they were ushered into the 
little back room where a table was set. There were 
flowers upon it and a handsome cake. Small dishes of 
candy stood at each end, and there were three plates laid. 

“ How lovely ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth. “ It is like a 
birthday, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Why were you so late ? ” asked Mr. Tyson. “ I 
was afraid you were not coming after all. I had to 
make a sort of surprise of it because I couldn’t be sure, 
till the moment came, whether or not I should have 
the time. This happens to be an off day, you see.” 

“ I couldn’t find Elizabeth,” Betsy told him. “ By 
the way, Elizabeth, where were you ? ” 

“ I was in the Colosseum having a combat with a 
wild beast,” answered Elizabeth with gravity. 


224 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“You crazy girl, what do you mean?” Betsy was 
ready for a lively tale. 

“I was wending my way homeward,” Elizabeth 
began, “ and I came upon a tree of goodly apples. I 
was fain to gather a few, but I found the tree was 
guarded by a beast, a creature with green eyes, who 
sprang upon me again and again until I lay like one 
dead.” 

“ O Elizabeth, are you making that all up ? ” asked 
Betsy with a glance at her uncle to see how he was 
taking it. 

“No, my doubting friend, I am telling you the 
truth,” returned Elizabeth taking a dainty morsel of 
the ice-cream which Mr. Tyson set before her. “ It is 
chocolate,” she whispered in an aside. 

“ Continue your tale,” Mr. Tyson urged as he, too, 
sat down to the table. 

“ Grammercy, kind sir, an’ I will,” Elizabeth replied. 
“This beast, methinks, would fain have knocked the 
breath out of me, but I resembled death.” 

Mr. Tyson smiled. “ Perhaps you mean you dis¬ 
sembled. Pardon the interruption. I merely ask for 
information.” 

“ Yes,” Elizabeth considered the suggestion, “ I be¬ 
lieve I do mean that. Well, I dissembled, so the beast 
after standing guard over the tree of golden fruit 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 


225 


at last went off a little distance. Then,” Elizabeth 
brandished her spoon tragically, “ a brave knight came 
to my rescue, and, after crying out in a terrible voice 
and rushing upon the creature with a huge club, it took 
flight and I escaped.” 

“ Will you tell us what the interpretation of all this 
is in plain English ? ” asked Mr. Tyson who was much 
entertained* 

“Yes, I will if you will answer a conundrum. I 
have just thought of it.” 

“We can at least make the effort, can’t we, Betsy ? ” 
said Mr. Tyson. “ You can be cutting the cake, Eliza¬ 
beth, while we guess.” 

This was a task Elizabeth rather enjoyed, and she 
stood up to wield the knife handed her. “ The conun¬ 
drum is: ‘Why was my brother Bert like a hot 
cake ? 9 ” 

“ Did you make it up ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ Yes, but I had heard another something like it.” 

“There is one about a chrysalis and hot cakes,” 
Betsy reminded her. 

“ I know, and that is the one that made me think of 
this.” Elizabeth began carefully to cut a second slice 
of cake. 

“The answer to that is: ‘Because it makes the 
butterfly.’ ” 


226 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Eight, you’ve guessed it,” declared Elizabeth. “ He 
made the butter fly.” 

“ Do you see any sense in it ? ” Betsy asked her 
uncle. 

“ Perhaps we shall when Elizabeth has explained it.” 

“ He made the butter fly,” Elizabeth went on. “ The 
butter was a sheep, one of Cousin Tom’s. It got 
over the wall and knocked me down. I stimulated 
death-” 

“ Please, Elizabeth,” interrupted Mr. Tyson, “ don’t 
say such things when I am drinking water; you nearly 
made me choke.” 

“ What did I say ? ” 

“You said stimulated when you meant simulated,” 
he told her. 

“ Well, then, I will say I feigned death, because I 
had heard wild creatures would not attack a person 
who was dead.” 

“ It wasn’t a wild creature, though,” protested 
Betsy. 

“ You would have thought so if you had been there,” 
returned Elizabeth severely. “ It butted me over and 
over again every time I tried to get up, then, after a 
while Bert came along and he was able to drive it off, 
so now you have my story. I used to think sheep were 
the gentlest, most amiable creatures in the world. 


A BELLIGERENT NEIGHBOR 227 

4 Gentle as a lamb,’ they say, but if that is the way they 
do I don’t believe in their gentleness; I’d much rather 
have a kitten.” 

“ Well, you have given us an entertaining story,” de¬ 
clared Mr. Tyson, “ and I will propose that we drink to 
the health of the fair Miss Hollins in a glass of rasp¬ 
berry shrub. May she live long and have no more en¬ 
counters with guardians of golden apples.” 

“ What must I do ? ” asked Elizabeth, anxious to re¬ 
spond properly to this. 

44 You can bow gracefully and give an answering toast 
if you like,” Mr. Tyson told her. 

44 How lovely! I have always longed to have some 
one drink my health and to be allowed to give a toast. 
Here’s to the honorable Mr. Tyson, may he walk back¬ 
ward—no, that isn’t it.” Mr. Tyson came near choking 
again. 

44 O Elizabeth ! ” he cried between fits of coughing. 

44 What are you trying to say, Elizabeth ? ” asked 
Betsy quite disgusted. 

44 I’m trying to give that nice toast I read the other 
day; it is something about meeting misfortune or not 
meeting her, I forget wdiich. I think I’d better think 
of something else. May you live to be as old as 
Methuselah and marry the prettiest girl in town.” 

Strange to say this seemed to disconcert Mr. Tyson 


228 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


to such a degree that he turned a fiery red and mur¬ 
mured something about being called to the outer office, 
to which place he fled immediately. 

“ O Elizabeth, how dared you say that ? ” asked 
Betsy. 

“ Why not ? I do hope it; we both do. Didn’t he 
turn red ? O Betsy, I do believe it is true.” 

Betsy shook her head to silence her friend, for Mr. 
Tyson was coming to tell them that he had a business 
call and they would have to excuse him. 

Considering that it would not be polite to tarry after 
their host had left them, the two girls took their leave, 
first giving earnest thanks for their entertainment. 


CHAPTEE xyn 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 
OW that we have had our joyous feast you can 



■1 >1 tell me the sorrowful news,” said Elizabeth as 
the two walked up the street. 

Betsy gave a long sigh. “ Why did you remind me ? 
It takes all the nice taste of the feast out of my mouth 
to think of such bitter things.” 

“ O Betsy, that sounds awful. Is it really so bad as 
that ? ” 

Betsy sighed again. “ It is the downfall of all my 
hopes,” she replied solemnly. “ I am not going to the 
Academy.” 

“ Oh! ” Elizabeth clasped her hands in dismay. 
“ Has the fiat gone forth ? ” 

“ I am afraid so. Aunt Em said last night that she 
had about decided to send me to Miss Crosby’s school 
in Huntingdon.” 

“ And did you make no protestations ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I said all I could, but she declared there 
were reasons why she wished it, reasons that she could 
not give now, but that I would see after a while.” 

“ Alas! Alas! ” sighed Elizabeth. u But, Betsy, we 


229 


230 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

must not tamely submit to such an outrage without 
making some effort to change the decree.” 

“ If you could only go, too, it wouldn’t be so bad,” 
said Betsy sadly. 

“That would be impossible,” returned Elizabeth. 
“ In the first place, father could never afford to send me 
away to an expensive school; it is as much as he can do 
to send me to the Academy, for you see, with Dick 
going to college, he will have a very heavy expense. I 
can tell you, Betsy, it is a very serious thing to have a 
large family to educate. Sometimes I think I ought to 
be brave and say that I can keep on at the district 
school as well as not. By the way, have you heard 
what Bess will do ? ” 

“ No, though I believe it all depends upon Miss Dun¬ 
bar. If she concludes to retire and they have a new 
teacher, Mrs. Lynde says Bess may go to the Academy; 
otherwise she will go back to Miss Dunbar.” 

“ What a season of uncertainty! ” cried Elizabeth 
tragically. “ Here I have been planning how we all 
would go together every day, and would continue to be 
schoolmates all the years of our youthfulness, and now 
the cup has been dashed from my lips. Well, there are 
still two weeks before school, and who knows what 
may happen in that time ? I do not give up all hope 
yet, Betsy.” 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


231 


“ You are so cheering,” responded Betsy. “ I don’t 
see any way out of it, but, as you say, who knows ? ” 

They parted at the gate of the brick house and 
Elizabeth continued her way alone. By the time she 
reached her own home she had determined to make an 
effort to change what seemed imminent. She spent the 
evening in carefully copying her sister Kathie’s en¬ 
graved cards, only she substituted Elizabeth for Kath¬ 
arine. It was not an easy task, and when she had 
finished the dozen cards the best of them were not 
above criticism, for some of the letters were rather un¬ 
even and the line of writing slanted up-hill almost too 
noticeably. “ They will have to do,” Elizabeth told 
herself, looking them over doubtfully. “ These are all 
I have and I can’t buy any more.” 

The next afternoon, arrayed in her best, she started 
out to make the three calls she had determined upon. 
First she went to see Miss Dunbar, who lived in a small 
white house across the road from the schoolhouse. 
Now that Elizabeth was about to pass beyond the lady’s 
control she had no feeling of awe in meeting her. 

Miss Dunbar was pottering among her flowers when 
Elizabeth entered the gate. The child felt a little em¬ 
barrassment because she did not know whether she 
should hand one of her cards to Miss Dunbar or 
whether she should keep it. Since cards were simply 


232 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


meant to make known the visitor’s name, she concluded 
that she need not present it, as her former teacher knew 
perfectly well who she was. She wanted to impress 
the fact that this was a formal call, but she did not 
know exactly how to do it. However, when she was 
invited up on the porch she seated herself sedately, 
held her parasol stiffly in one gloved hand, and clutched 
her card-case in the other. The card-case, by the way, 
was a very simple affair which had come as an adver¬ 
tisement to the house. 

After polite inquiries as to Miss Dunbar’s health, 
Elizabeth cast around in her mind for a way of broach¬ 
ing the subject nearest her heart, but finally concluded 
that the best way would be to strike out boldly with 
the direct question. “ You know I am going to the 
Academy this year,” she began. “ Are you going to 
keep the school here, Miss Dunbar ? ” 

“ Well, my child, that is a question that I have been 
asking myself,” replied Miss Dunbar. “ It has been a 
difficult one to answer because I am beginning to feel 
the weight of years, yet I did not want to give up 
my home here and become dependent upon my rela¬ 
tives. They have all been insisting that it was not 
right for me to live alone and that I must make my 
home with one of my nieces or nephews. However, 
the question is at last settled. One of my nieces has 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


233 


decided that she would like to teach for a year and 
has consented to take my place. At the end of that 
time we shall see. The trustees have been kind enough 
to appoint my niece to the position, and she will stay 
with me. It has not been spoken of to persons gener¬ 
ally, but now I think we need not consider it a secret 
as Margaret has arrived.” 

“ Is she here ? ” asked Elizabeth, feeling quite puffed 
up at being the recipient of such a piece of news. 

“ She is not in the house. I believe she went out to 
make a call on some friends she has here. No doubt 
you will see her soon enough. I am sorry she will 
not have you in her class, but I can realize that your 
parents think it high time for you to take your place 
with older girls. I hope you will be a credit to your 
new teachers.” 

Elizabeth did not know just what to reply to this. 
She hoped she would be a credit but she could not 
vouch for it. “ I think I must be going,” she said. 
There was really nothing more to stay for, since the 
object of her call was gained. She made her farewells 
without further delay and went off well pleased. Bess, 
at least, could be counted upon, for had not Mrs. Lynde 
said her decision depended upon whether Miss Dunbar 
remained or not ? 

The next call was upon Mrs. Lynde. Aunt Darky 


234 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

answered Elizabeth’s ring. “I reckons yuh means 
Miss Bess, doesn’t yuh ? ” she said in answer to Eliza¬ 
beth’s inquiry for Mrs. Lynde. 

“ No , I mean Mrs. Lynde,” returned Elizabeth in her 
most stately manner. “ You can give her my card.” 

Aunt Darky ducked her head and chuckled as she 
took the card and watched Elizabeth walk into the 
drawing-room. “ Mah! Mah!” Elizabeth heard the 
old woman say. “ Dese yer little chickens strut mos’ 
as proud as de big ones sometimes.” 

Elizabeth waited in the big silent room. She felt 
very companified to be sitting there looking around at 
the pictures, the antiques, the ornaments which were 
less familiar than the objects in other rooms of the 
house. 

Presently Aunt Darky returned drawing down her 
mouth and pretending to be very solemn. “ Miss 
Lynde say is yuh agreeable she deceibes yuh in de 
libry, Miss Hollins.” Then with her hand over her 
mouth, and snickering, she made a pompous curtsy as 
Elizabeth swept from the room. 

The library was on the other side of the hall. The 
door was open and Elizabeth went in. Mrs. Lynde sat 
by the window, and opposite her was the most radiant 
creature Elizabeth had ever seen. She stood still in 
blank admiration. 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


235 


“ Come in, Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Lynde. “ This is 
Miss Jewett.” 

“ How do you do ? ” came from the smiling lips of 
the stranger. 

Elizabeth went forward and gave her hand into the 
keeping of the soft white one which was held out to 
her. Now that she was nearer she discovered that 
even Kathie was not so pretty as this young lady. 
She might be a little older than Kathie, Elizabeth de¬ 
cided, but that was no detraction. She had the softest 
brown eyes, fair hair parted and waving gently away 
from her smooth forehead, a lovely complexion, red 
lips that parted to show a row of white even teeth, and 
a nose beyond criticism. She wore a soft filmy blue 
dress and a bunch of white flowers at her belt. Al¬ 
together Elizabeth thought her the most charming 
person she had ever seen. She forgot altogether what 
she had come for, in her contemplation of the young 
lady. 

“ Did you want to see Bess ? ” asked Mrs. Lynde. 
“ Aunt Darky insisted that you asked for me. Bess is 
up with Kuth Gilmore, I suspect.” 

“ It was you that I wanted to see,” said Elizabeth, 
facing about and coming to her senses. “ I am so anx¬ 
ious to have Bess go to the Academy, and she says you 
told her it depended upon whether Miss Dunbar went 


236 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


back or not. I have just been to see her, and she isn’t 
going to teach. She has a niece who is to take her 
place, so you will let Bess come to the Academy, won’t 
you ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know,” returned Mrs. Lynde. “ I 
think she will be very well off here at the village 
school.” 

“ Oh, but,” Elizabeth brought forward her argu¬ 
ments, “ they have such excellent teachers at the 
Academy, and besides, Bess can go with Ruth and me 
in the Gilmores’ automobile.” 

“ I don’t know that I care to risk her going in that 
way,” returned Mrs. Lynde. “ I consider automobiles 
very unsafe things. One cannot pick up a paper with¬ 
out reading of some fearful accident. I should feel 
much better to have her near at hand, and so would her 
mother.” 

This sounded very unpromising, but Elizabeth did 
not give up. “ Martin is very careful,” she went on, 
“ and besides one might be in front of her own door and 
be run over, or she could fall down her own stairs and 
break her neck.” 

There was a suspicious sound from the stranger, but 
Elizabeth was too much in earnest to notice the sub¬ 
dued laugh. 

“ And then,” she went on warming up to her subject, 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


237 


“ horses are dangerous, too. They can run away with 
you and throw you out of a carriage as easy as not.” 

“ Dear, dear,” Mrs. Lynde returned, “ you do make 
it appear unsafe to try anything. I think, in spite of 
all you say, that it would be more satisfactory to have 
Bess near, then if anything were to happen we should 
know it. She is not a careless child and I think we 
don’t need to look forward to any very great accident 
in going from here to the schoolhouse.” 

Finding these arguments had no effect Elizabeth 
changed her tactics. “ But think of the advantages,” 
she began. “ Of course we all know Miss Dunbar is 
very nice, but if her niece should be just like her, would 
you want Bess to go to her school forever and ever ? ” 

There was a veritable giggle from the young lady in 
blue. Even Mrs. Lynde laughed. “Well, my dear, I 
can vouch for this much at least; Miss Dunbar’s niece 
is not a bit like her. She is a highly educated young 
lady who has just finished her college course and who 
has reasons of her own for wanting to teach a year. 
We all might have preferred an older person, but we 
think she will do very well.” 

Elizabeth gave a long sigh. “ Then you think I am 
not fruitful in my hope,” she said. 

Mrs. Lynde smiled. “ I am afraid not this year. We 
cannot tell what will happen by next year,” 


238 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“Is it such a very big hope?” asked Miss Jewett, 
looking kindly at Elizabeth. 

“ Yes, but I am afraid my happy dream will have a 
sad awakening. Betsy is my first-best friend and I sup¬ 
pose she has to go away to boarding-school. Bess is 
my second best and she must stay here, so there is only 
Buth left, and she is Bess’s first-best friend, so we shall 
all be at sixes and sevens. It is very deploriable.” 

“It is hard to be separated from one’s dearest 
friends,” remarked Miss Jewett sympathetically. 
“ Perhaps, after all, something will happen that you 
and your friends will be able to go to the same school.” 
She smiled at Mrs. Lynde who gave a meaning smile in 
return. 

Elizabeth arose to go. “ I have another call to make,” 
she said, “ so I think I must be going. I am very glad 
I found you at home, Mrs. Lynde, but I am sorry my 
errand was unprevailing. Please remember me to 
Bess.” 

“I think I must be going, too,” said Miss Jewett. 
“ If we are going the same way we might walk along 
together.” 

This was an unlooked for pleasure, and Elizabeth 
gladly waited until Miss Jewett settled her hat upon 
her soft fluffy locks. Such a pretty hat Elizabeth 
thought it, a white one trimmed with blue corn-flowers 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


239 


to match the blue dress. Elizabeth wished she might 
have one like it when she should be a young lady, but, 
alas, her mother never would let her wear blue, saying 
it did not look well with her auburn tresses. Kathie 
had been even more cruel in telling her that red and 
blue were horrid together, and she hoped Elizabeth 
would never be guilty of such a combination. 

Miss Jewett observed the child eyeing her hat wist¬ 
fully and she smiled appreciatively. “ It isn’t polite to 
make remarks about a person’s clothes,” said Elizabeth, 
“ but that is such a lovely hat I can’t help looking at it. 
I’d like one just like it when I’m grown, but it can 
never, never be.” 

“ Why not ? ” asked the young lady. “ It is a very 
simple hat, I am sure.” 

“ Oh, yes, but have you noticed the color of my 
hair ? You don’t know what a sorrow it is that I am 
deprived of wearing all the prettiest colors. Suppose 
you could never wear pink or blue; wouldn’t it make 
you very unhappy ? ” 

They had made their adieux and were on the street 
by this time. “ Why, I think it would take more than 
that to make me unhappy,” Miss Jewett answered. 
“I think your hair is much prettier than mine, for 
instance, and if it turns darker, as it very naturally 
will, it will be stunning. I have always wanted to 


240 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

wear brown and it is very unbecoming, so you see I 
am not much better off than you.” 

This was a new point of view for Elizabeth. “ I 
didn’t suppose that any one ever liked brown,” she 
said, “ and mother makes me wear it more than any¬ 
thing else.” 

“ Of course she does, as any sensible mother would, 
for it is most becoming. You can wear yellow, too, 
and white, which are beautiful with such hair as 
yours.” 

Elizabeth was much comforted. She was already 
fathoms deep in love with this charming person, and 
was further enthralled by these approving speeches. 
At the gate of the brick house she paused, although 
she would like to have continued the walk indefinitely. 

“ Oh, is this where you are going ? ” said Miss Jewett 
moving on a step. 

“ Yes, Miss Jewett, I am going to call on Miss Emily 
Tyson. Do you know her ? I was hoping you would 
go in with me if you did.” 

Miss Jewett gave a little embarrassed laugh. “ Yes, 
I know her,” she replied, “ but I think I won’t go in 
just now. Good-bye. I hope I ^shall see you soon 
again.” 

Elizabeth watched the blue dress disappear down the 
street and then she turned in at the gate. In answer 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


241 


to her inquiry she learned that Miss Emily was not at 
home, but that Betsy was out in the garden, so thither 
Elizabeth took her way. She walked sedately down 
the path to find Betsy gathering nasturtiums. 

“ Why, Elizabeth, you’re all dressed up,” was her 
greeting. 

“Yes, I’ve been making calls,” returned Elizabeth 
seating herself carefully on a wheelbarrow. “ I went 
to see Miss Dunbar, and, Betsy, she isn’t going to 
teach next year ; her niece is going to take the school. 
They say she isn’t a bit like Miss Dunbar, but I 
imagine she is a prim sort of somebody who wears 
spectacles and looks at you with her sharp eyes over 
the tops of them. No doubt she has oily hair that she 
wears in a little hard knot. I can just see her. Aren’t 
you glad you don’t have to go back to the village 
school ? ” 

Betsy laughed. “ If you think that way, you cer¬ 
tainly can’t have seen the new teacher. Look, Eliza¬ 
beth, aren’t these lovely ? Wouldn’t these long trail¬ 
ing ones look pretty on a hat ? Here’s a brownish red 
one that just matches your hair.” 

“ I don’t mind my hair near so much as I did,” re¬ 
turned Elizabeth pleased with the idea. She could 
have a hat trimmed with nasturtiums if she could not 
wear corn-flower blue. 



242 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I am glad you don’t mind,” Betsy said as she went 
on gathering her flowers. “ You know I always thought 
it was lovely, but you insisted it was only to please you 
that I said it.” 

“ Of course I’d rather it were some other 
color,” Elizabeth explained, “like that lovely Miss 
Jewett’s-” 

“ Oh, then you have seen her,” Betsy broke in, “ and 
you were just fooling when you described her as just 
the opposite of what she is ? ” 

“ I’ve seen who ? ” Elizabeth almost fell back in 
her surprise. 

“ Why, Miss Jewett, Miss Dunbar’s niece.” 

“ Woe is me ! Woe is me ! ” cried Elizabeth. “ What 
have I said ? I have betrayed my fears to the loveliest 
of her sex. I never dreamed that it was Miss Jewett 
who was to be the teacher. I hope I didn’t say any¬ 
thing very dreadful about her aunt. I remember now 
I tried to spare Mrs. Lynde’s feelings and spoke very 
delicately about Miss Dunbar, so she could not have 
taken offense. She didn’t, I know, for she was per¬ 
fectly lovely to me and walked as far as your gate 
with me.” 

“ So long as I can’t go to the Academy I believe I 
would much rather stay at home this year,” Betsy 
went on, “for they say Miss Jewett is perfectly fine. 


ELIZABETH GOES CALLING 


243 


She tutored the girls at college and they say she is an 
excellent teacher. I will tell you something, Eliza¬ 
beth ; Uncle Rob is very much in favor of my staying 
at home this year, but Aunt Emily hasn’t given in 
yet. It is my private opinion that she will, because 
she finds that there are a great many extras at Miss 
Crosby’s school, so it will be very much more expensive 
than she thought.” 

“ And you will have Bess, and all the old pupils, be¬ 
sides having the blessed privilege of seeing Miss Jewett 
every day. I almost envy you, Betsy.” 

“ Yes, but think of what goes on at the Academy 
and of all the new girls you will meet there.” Betsy 
had done with jealousy and could speak heroically of 
the new associations. 

“ I know,” Elizabeth sighed. “ It will be very nice, 
of course.” 

“ And to think of your going to school in a motor 
car every day,” Betsy went on, “ while I am tramping 
along through the dust.” 

“I know,” repeated Elizabeth. Yet all the way 
home her thoughts dwelt more upon Miss Jewett and 
the village school than upon the high advantages of 
the Academy. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


“ "TV T OTHER, I have seen such an ideal,” said Eliza- 
IVX beth as she came into her mother’s room. 

“ What was it like ? ” asked Katharine who was 
sitting with her mother. 

“ It was like a queen and a fairy and a noble lady 
all in one,” replied Elizabeth laying aside her hat and 
gloves. “ I wish I were a gallant knight so I could 
ride in a tournament and crown her Queen of Love and 
Beauty.” 

“ Who is this paragon of perfection, and where did 
you see her ? ” asked Kathie. 

“ I was calling upon Mrs. Lynde and she was there.” 
Elizabeth gave the information. 

“Upon Mrs. Lynde? What on earth were you 
doing that for ? and since when have you taken to 
exchanging visits with the grandmothers of the 
town?” asked Kathie. 

“ I was calling on business,” was the reply. “ First 
I went to see Miss Dunbar. She isn’t going to teach 
next year, so I went to see if I couldn’t persuade Mrs. 

244 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


245 


Lynde to let Bess go to the Academy. It was there I 
saw the beautiful lady, and since I have found out who 
she is I am not surprised that Mrs. Lynde is going to 
keep Bess at home. I shouldn’t wonder if Betsy were 
to go back to the old school, too; her uncle wants 
her to.” 

Kathie looked at her mother and laughed. “ Straws 
show which way the wind blows,” she said, a remark 
which seemed entirely apart from the subject, Eliza¬ 
beth thought. 

“So it is Margaret Jewett whom you have seen,” 
said Mrs. Hollins. 

“Yes, that is her royal name,” acquiesced Eliza¬ 
beth. “Don’t you think she is gorgeously beautiful, 
mother ? ” 

“ She is rather pretty, but I think I should call her 
more charming than beautiful. She has a very sweet 
manner and is a dear good girl. She made her own 
way through college because her father was not very 
well off, and now she has given up much better offers - 
in order to come here and look after her aunt.” 

“ It seems to me that in this case virtue will have its 
reward,” remarked Kathie whose dealing in proverbs 
Elizabeth did not in the least understand. 

“ She has taken the school for a year,” Mrs. Hollins 
went on. “ At the end of that time we shall see what 


246 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

is best to be done. Your father thinks she will suc¬ 
ceed with the school and that we shall be able to keep 
her here.” 

“ I do hope so,” returned Elizabeth fervently. 

“ It is a pity that you are not going to sit under her 
teachings since you are so bewitched with her,” said 
Kathie, “ though perhaps it is just as well, as you might 
become disillusioned. There, never mind, don’t look 
so indignant. I was only teasing you. She is a mighty 
nice girl and we all like her immensely.” 

“ Where did you meet her ? Has she ever been here 
before ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Yes, she was here in the summer during the time 
you were having trouble with your eyes, so of course 
you didn’t see her. She spent several days with her 
aunt. It was then that her taking the school was first 
talked about. We thought that she had about given 
up the idea, but it seems she has not. No doubt there 
was a very strong influence brought to bear.” 

On Sunday Elizabeth had the happiness of sitting a 
few pews behind Miss Jewett who then wore a black 
hat with plumes, which Elizabeth was glad to see. She 
could wear such a hat, certainly, when she had grown 
to young ladyhood. She could have a white cloth suit, 
too, thus further imitating the object of her admiration. 
She dropped her handkerchief upon coming out of the 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


247 


pew, thereby making an excuse to linger so that she 
could come face to face with Miss Jewett, and receive 
the smiling greeting which she hoped would be given 
her. At the door Betsy joined them. Miss Dunbar 
was borne off by Mrs. Lynde, and when Elizabeth 
looked after Miss Jewett she saw that she was walking 
away with Mr. Tyson. Miss Emily, looking very 
severe, spoke sharply to Betsy. “ Come, don’t dawdle, 
child. We shall never get home if you stand there 
chattering.” Kathie, with Dick on one side and Hal 
on the other, was just ahead. Elizabeth joined Euth 
and her grandfather and so they proceeded up the street 
talking quietly. The trees, though somewhat the 
worse from the heat of the summer, still showed a 
pleasant green and in the gardens were tall cosmos, 
variously colored asters, and crisp-looking dahlias. 
Carriages and buggies, bearing those who lived further 
in the country, dashed along the road, and an automo¬ 
bile once in a while whizzed by. 

“ In two weeks more we shall be going to the 
Academy,” said Euth with satisfaction, “but, Eliza¬ 
beth, isn’t it too bad that neither Bess nor Betsy can go ? ” 

“ It is very, very sad,” replied Elizabeth. “ All my 
plans are illustrated.” 

Mr. Gilmore laughed. “ I think you’d better study 
your dictionary the first thing you do,” he said. “ Your 


248 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

use of words is most remarkable, Elizabeth. When you 
get home look up frustrated and see what it means. I 
must confess to having some of my plans frustrated be¬ 
cause the new motor car is giving us some trouble. I 
have had to send it off for repairs. Let us hope it will 
get back before you two young ladies want to start for 
school.” 

“ Suppose it doesn’t get back in time, what then ? ” 
inquired Ruth. 

“We shall have to manage some other way,” her 
grandfather told her. 

“Miss Jewett begins her school to-morrow,” re¬ 
marked Elizabeth. 

“ 1 saw her in church to-day,” said Ruth eagerly, 
“ and I think she is lovely. I shouldn’t mind going to 
school to a teacher like that.” 

“ You think that, do you?” said Mr. Gilmore. “ I 
shall have to see this young lady that all you little 
girls are so fascinated with.” 

“ She is so bewitching,” declared Elizabeth. “ I wish 
she were going to teach at the Academy.” 

“ She certainly has made an impression on you,” Mr. 
Gilmore returned. “We shall see what she does with 
the school, however. She may not be so popular with 
every one.” 

However, Miss Jewett was popular from the very 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


249 


first. Bert came home the next day much impressed 
with his new teacher. “ She’s a corker,” he asserted. 
“ Maybe you think she’s soft, but, I tell you, when she 
speaks she means what she says, and I believe she must 
have eyes in the back of her head; she can see what a 
fellow is doing even when he is behind her.” 

“It is evident that Bert has reason to know,” re¬ 
marked his father. 

Bert looked a little abashed. “ I wasn’t doing any¬ 
thing much,” he maintained. “ I was just slipping an 
angleworm down Patsy’s back.” 

“ Ugh ! ” cried Katharine. “ And you don’t call that 
anything. What did Miss Jewett do ? ” 

“ She whirled ’round on me like a flash and told me 
to take my seat and you’d better believe I did. She’s 
got it in for me yet, I reckon, but she didn’t do any¬ 
thing to the angleworm except to tell us about him. 
Gee! but she was interesting. She knows a lot; you’d 
better believe she does.” 

All this created a strong yearning for her old school 
in Elizabeth. It was hard to see the children going 
gaily by, to bask in the presence of the adored one 
while she was shut out. At the last moment even 
Betsy was included in those who set forth to the old 
schoolhouse. Elizabeth thought of her own vacant 
place, not vacant indeed, for Betsy occupied it. 


250 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I am sitting with Bess,” Betsy told her, “ and as 
long as her first best isn’t in school and neither is mine 
we have to be one another’s first best there, but out of 
it, of course, it is different.” 

Elizabeth was obliged to see justice in this, but 
she felt a pang at heart nevertheless. 

“We miss you awfully,” Betsy went on. “I 
don’t see why you have to go to that old Academy, 
anyhow; I’m sure Miss Jewett is good enough 
teacher for any one. I tell you, Elizabeth, she 
is just great. I wish you’d see how those boys 
mind her, and she isn’t a bit cross either, just 
decided. Bess brought her a basket of lovely peaches 
to-day and to-morrow I am going to take her some 
flowers.” 

In bestowing these gifts Elizabeth had no place 
nor part and she felt the fact keenly. There was 
no excuse for her to make an offering, but she 
was determined not to be outdone, even if she 
were not one of Miss Jewett’s pupils. She would 
write her some verses and send them through the 
mail. 

She spent the next morning in the seclusion of the 
attic, laboring over an effusion which might express her 
feelings. At last she produced the following lines 
which were inscribed: 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


251 


To One I Adore. 

Fair lady, I so much admire, 

List to the lay which you inspire. 

Fain would I send thee flowers or fruit 
Alas ! I have none that would suit. 

All I can offer thee is my love 
I hope my offering you’ll approve. 

You are so lovely and so wise 
I long to stand well in your eyes. 

I mourn to think I’m not your scholar 
To be I’d spend my last lone dollar. 

Fd like to see you every day 
To me my work would then be play. 

If we lived in the days of old 
I’d wish to be a knight so bold, 

That I might fight for you and wear 
Your favor on the shield I’d bear. 

—From an Adorable Friend. 

The lines were written on a sheet of blue paper,— 
there was a subtle reference to the blue dress in this,— 
and were carefully addressed in Elizabeth’s best man¬ 
ner. She enjoyed the secrecy of it and had a pleasant 
feeling of mystery when she mailed the missive. She 
wondered if Miss Jewett would suspect, and, if so, what 
would she say. 

Just what Miss Jewett did think Mr. Tyson was the 


252 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

first person to know, for he met Miss Jewett as she was 
coming out of the post-office, and the two walked along 
together toward Miss Dunbar’s little house. Here they 
sat down on the porch. 

“ Don’t you want to read your mail ? ” asked Mr. 
Tyson. 

“ I have but one letter and that is from an unfamiliar 
correspondent,” replied Miss Jewett, “ but I may as 
well satisfy my curiosity and see who it is.” She 
opened the blue envelope and read the lines, her smiles 
broadening as she neared the end. When she had fin¬ 
ished she handed the paper to Mr. Tyson. “ What do 
you think of that ? ” she said. “ Have you any idea 
who my admirer is ? ” 

Mr. Tyson read the lines and as he handed them 
back he said: “ There is only one person who could 
possibly have written that, and it is my friend and 
client, Miss Elizabeth Hollins. It is evident you have 
met the young lady.” 

“ The pretty little brown-eyed girl with auburn hair 
and a lovely complexion? Yes, I remember her very 
well. What a quaint little creature she is, and did you 
ever know such a mixed vocabulary as hers ? ” 

“ It is Elizabeth’s own. Life could never be monot¬ 
onous with Elizabeth. She and my niece Betsy are in¬ 
separable. Did I ever tell you about their compact 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


253 


signed in blood ? ” Keceiving assurance that she had 
not been told and that she wanted very much to hear 
the tale Mr. Tyson gave her an account of the affair 
from beginning to end. 

“ The dear child! ” she exclaimed. “ What an inter¬ 
esting little body she must be. I wish I did have her 
as a pupil. I would certainly put her through a course 
of English and set her in the way she should go. A 
girl like that is worth guiding. Haven’t I her brother 
in school ? A mischievous little fellow, but really good 
at heart.” 

“ Bert, you mean. Yes, he is a brother of Elizabeth. 
There is an older one, Dick, who is a chum of my 
nephew Hal and who is a nice lad. I think you have 
met Kathie, too.” 

“ Oh, yes, and what a pretty girl she is ! They are 
a nice family all around, it seems.” 

“ Good sterling people. I don’t suppose there is a 
man in town more thought of than Herbert Hollins.” 

“ I certainly wish I could have Elizabeth. My ‘ ador¬ 
able friend ’; isn’t that funny ? She is adorable, I am 
sure. Why is she going to the Academy ? ” 

“ It has been her dream for a year or more. She is 
very bright and ambitious, and her parents think it is 
time she should go. I imagine they are making some 
sacrifice to send her, as Dick will be going to college 


254 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


this year and Mr. Hollins will have heavy expenses. 
He is too honest and honorable a man to be a very 
rich one.” 

“ Aren’t rich people ever honest ? ” asked Miss Jewett 
with a laugh. 

“ I didn’t say that. What I meant was that a strictly 
honest man doesn’t often get rich by rapid methods. 
If he is already rich, that is another thing.” They 
drifted off into an argument on this subject, and Eliza¬ 
beth was forgotten for the time being. 

Elizabeth was not forgetting, however. She felt that 
she had not the prior claims of the regular pupils, but 
she could worship from afar if she did not have the in¬ 
estimable privilege of walking home with the teacher, 
of bringing her small gifts and of enjoying her presence 
so many hours in each day. She therefore managed to 
make a daily pilgrimage to the schoolhouse early every 
morning that she might hang a small bunch of flowers 
on the door-knob. Sometimes a couple of specially rosy 
apples, or anything which could be turned into an offer¬ 
ing, would take the place of the flowers. Elizabeth 
would tiptoe up on the porch, make fast her gift, and 
then fly off, fearing she might be seen by some unusu¬ 
ally early scholar. One morning, indeed, Miss Jewett 
herself surprised her in the very act of tying a tiny 
basket of grapes to the knob, 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


255 


“ Why, Elizabeth,” exclaimed the teacher, “ is it you 
who have been playing fairy for me ? I thought it 
must be one of my own girls. What a cunning basket. 
Thank you ever so much, dear, for your pretty gifts. 
I have enjoyed them very much. Won’t you come in ? 
I don’t believe you have seen the schoolroom since we 
have had it freshened up.” 

Elizabeth did want very much to see, for she had 
heard accounts of Miss Jewett’s improvements, so she 
followed the young lady in to see windows full of 
flowering plants, an aquarium in which goldfish darted 
about, shelves of new and fascinating books, and 
pictures on the, heretofore, bare walls. On Miss 
Jewett’s desk stood the bunch of flowers which Eliza¬ 
beth had brought the day before. They were carefully 
preserved in a pretty vase. 

“ How fine it is! ” exclaimed the little girl. “ It 
doesn’t look like the same place, does it ? ” 

“I think it is improved,” confessed Miss Jewett. 
“ How I want to make a drawing on the blackboard. 
You can sit anywhere you choose and watch me, if you 
like.” 

“ May I sit in my old seat ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ Why, of course you may. I think I heard Betsy 
say she had taken the one that used to be yours.” 

Elizabeth slipped into her old place and watched Miss 


256 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


Jewett’s clever fingers make a drawing in colored 
chalks. It was of a fort over which waved a United 
States flag. “ Do you know why I am making this 
especial picture ? ” asked Miss Jewett turning smilingly 
to Elizabeth. 

“I think I can almost guess,” she said a little 
abashed. 

“ Tell me what you think and I will tell you if you 
are right.” 

“ I think maybe that is the fort where Francis Key 
wrote the Star Spangled Banner.” 

“ Good child ! ” cried Miss Jewett. “ I wonder if 
any of my pupils will answer as quickly. You see 
this is the anniversary of the battle of North Point 
and I want the children to remember it. We must 
run up the flag and sing Mr. Key’s song at recess, I 
think.” 

Elizabeth sighed. She wished she might join in. It 
was all very familiar there in the old schoolroom, at 
her own old desk with her name scratched with a pin on 
the inside of the lid. She had looked at it, but with 
a regretful thought that now Betsy had the right to 
put her name there. This Betsy had done. Elizabeth 
had found a card written in Betsy’s neat handwriting, 
pasted on the inside lid. The desk was in perfect 
order, and still bore the odor of the apple Betsy had in 


THE BEAUTIFUL LADY 


257 


it the day before. “ I am afraid I shall have to be go¬ 
ing now,” said Elizabeth seeing a group of children on 
their way down the street. “ I am so much obliged to 
you for letting me see the old schoolroom.” 

“ I hope you’ll come again,” replied Miss Jewett with 
a farewell nod, and Betsy went out with a homesick 
feeling at her heart. She had never so fully realized 
what the old schoolhouse meant to her. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 

W HEN she left the schoolhouse Elizabeth deter¬ 
mined to go home by the back way, for she did 
not want to encounter the school children, nor have 
them know that she had visited their teacher. She 
had made something of a boast that she was no longer 
to be one of them, that she had advanced beyond the 
“ little girls ” and was henceforth a student, one of the 
envied Academy girls. She tried to explain away the 
homesick feeling and wondered whether it was really 
because of old associations or because of Miss Jewett’s 
presence as teacher. “ I couldn’t be homesick for her,” 
she told herself, “ for you can’t be homesick for a thing 
you have never had. I reckon it must be the old ways. 
When I think of having nobody but strange school¬ 
mates and stranger teachers it does sort of scare me.” 

As she went around by the kitchen door, Electra 
called to her. “ That you, ’Lizbeth ? ” 

Elizabeth went in. 

“ Your ma’s gone up to your cousin’s, and she left 
word you were not to come there to-day.” 

258 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


259 


u Why not ? ” asked Elizabeth, immediately seized 
with a desire to see Kuth. 

“ Because Buth’s got a rash out on her. They don’t 
know what it is and they’ve sent for the doctor. Your 
ma’s afraid it may be something catching and she wants 
you to stay at home and keep Babs here, too, till she 
comes back anyway. I’ve got my hands full finishing 
up these last odds and ends for your brother to take 
with him to college, and I can’t be bothered tendin’ 
young ones, so you just keep Babs out of the way and 
stay there yourself.” 

Elizabeth stood uncertainly for a moment. She 
wanted to rebel, for she could think of a dozen reasons 
why she did not want to amuse Babs, but none of them 
seemed good enough in comparison with Electra’s, so 
she contented herself with going out with a martyr¬ 
like expression, saying as she went, “Babs is such a 
trying child when one wants to do anything.” 

“ That’s exactly it,” replied Electra with emphasis. 

Elizabeth went off to hunt up her little sister and 
found her very comfortably occupied in unsettling 
Elizabeth’s assortment of paper dolls. “0 dear me, 
Babs,” cried her sister, “ I wish you wouldn’t do that.” 

“ I isn’t hurting zem,” returned Babs, “ I is just look¬ 
ing.” 

“Well, why don’t you look at your own? I’m sure 


260 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

you have plenty of them and real pretty ones, too. 
Just see how you are mixing up Lady Jane Grey’s 
dresses with Princess Victoria’s.” 

For answer Babs picked up the boxful of paper dolls 
and emptied the whole of the contents on the floor in 
a heap. “Zere,” she said, “take your old dolls. I 
don’t want ’em.” Then she scampered off with a 
saucy chuckle. 

“Come right straight back here,” cried Elizabeth 
running after her. 

“Won’t,” answered Babs defiantly. 

“ You must come and pick up my things. You have 
taken them all out of the envelopes where I had them 
so nicely arranged and they are all every which way. 
You’ve got to put them back as you found them.” 

For answer Babs cocked her head to one side and 
looked at her sister with an expression which said, 
“ Make me if you can.” 

“You are a most unpleasant child; that is all I’ve 
got to say,” said Elizabeth with dignity. 

“ Here, here, what’s the matter in there ? ” came a 
voice from the next room. 

“It’s all Babs,” returned Elizabeth, going to the 
door to speak to Kathie. “ She got hold of my paper 
dolls and she has mussed them up hopelessly. I don’t 
believe I shall ever be able to distinguish their clothes.” 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


261 


“Oh, well, never mind,” said Kathie; “ Babs is a 
little tease, I know. I have a new fashion magazine 
that you may have and you can cut out some more 
countesses and high-born dames.” 

This offer mollified Elizabeth and she turned with a 
most superior air to Babs. “ You needn’t trouble your¬ 
self with the paltry things,” she said. “ I am going to 
have some that are vastly more imperious.” 

At this Babs was filled with envy. She came run¬ 
ning in. “ I want some, too, Kassie,” she cried. “ Give 
me some.” 

“No, you were very mean to interfere with Eliza¬ 
beth’s when you knew how particular she is about 
them.” 

“Yes,” put in Elizabeth, “you knew that if there 
was one thing above another that I was fastidious 
about it was my paper dolls.” 

Kathie laughed. “O Elizabeth, you do use such 
funny words.” 

“ Oh, well,” Elizabeth was ready to right herself, 
“of course I meant fistadious. I just said the other 
for fun.” 

Kathie laughed still more merrily. “You are a 
funny youngster, Elizabeth.” 

“ Yes, I seem to be very amusing,” returned Eliza¬ 
beth. “ Where is the fashion book, Kathie ? ” 


262 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Just wait till I have finished this and I will get it 
for you,” she said. 

“ What are you making ? ” asked Elizabeth coming 
nearer. “ Oh, I see, it is a necktie holder. Is it for 
Dick to take to college ? ” 

“ No, it isn’t for Dick,” replied Kathie after a pause. 
“ There, run away; you bother me with your ques¬ 
tions.” 

“ Will you answer just one more ? ” asked Elizabeth 
with a keen desire to have certain suspicions made facts. 

“ Oh, yes, I suppose I could answer one if you will 
promise to take Babs off in the other room and amuse 
her till I have finished. Then I will surely get you 
the magazine. What do you want to know ? ” 

Elizabeth advanced and in a stage whisper asked: 
“ Is it for Mr. Robert Tyson ? ” 

Kathie laughed. “No, most sapient maiden; it is 
not. Now, that is enough. I will not answer any 
more.” 

Elizabeth hesitated. It was not enough. “I do 
wish I knew if it is for father,” she murmured. “ That 
isn’t a question, Kathie. It is just an expression of my 
ardent curiosity.” 

“ I should think it was ardent, but if you will not ex¬ 
press any more ardent curiosity I will say that it is not 
for father. Now, then, my lips are absolutely sealed.” 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


263 


Elizabeth stood her ground for a moment, but, seeing 
that Kathie meant what she said, she turned away and 
went back to discover that Babs had expressed her 
ardent curiosity in turning over the contents of Eliza¬ 
beth’s upper drawer. She had discovered the string of 
amber beads and was trying to clasp them around her 
neck. “ 0 dear, you mischievous urchin,” cried Eliza¬ 
beth, “ I don’t know what I shall do with you. Don’t 
you know that I allow no one to rummage among my 
things ? Mother has often told you to leave them 
alone. If I see you in any more mischief I shall tell 
her, and, what is more, I shall tell Santa Claus.” 

This last threat was enough for Babs. “ Oh, please 
don’t tell him, ’Lizabes,” she begged. “ I will be good, 
and I will put zese right away.” 

“ I was going to leave you those in my will,” con¬ 
tinued Elizabeth, “ but now I don’t think I can do it.” 

“ Oh, please do, ’Lizabes.” Babs had no idea of what 
a will was, but that it represented a future possession 
of the beads she could make out. 

“ Yery well, we shall see,” Elizabeth said in a mature 
manner. “ If you will go and pick up the paper dolls 
you so wastelessly scattered on the floor I will promise 
to leave them to you.” 

“ And you won’t tell Santa Claus ? ” 

“ No, not this time.” 


264 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


Babs being thus reassured went soberly to her task 
while Elizabeth directed her. Once in a while the elder 
child would peep in at Kathie to see how near she was 
to the completion of her work. At last she held it up 
and viewed it critically. Elizabeth considered this a 
signal for reentrance. “ Oh, Kath,” she said, “ it is aw¬ 
fully pretty. I should think he would be delighted 
with it.” 

“ Who ? ” 

“ Why—why—the person you are making it for, un¬ 
less it should be for Grandpa Gilmore and he couldn’t 
see it very well.” 

“ You are an insinuating child,” returned Kathie, 
“ but you are not going to find out. By the way, I am 
afraid Ruth must be quite ill, mother is staying away 
so long. I suppose they must be waiting to hear what 
the doctor says. Cousin Belle said they were afraid it 
was measles.” 

“ O dear ! ” Elizabeth was distressed. “ I hope it 
isn’t, for then Ruth couldn’t go to school, and it begins 
next Monday.” 

“ So it does. We have been so busy thinking of get¬ 
ting the boys off to college that I had forgotten about 
your school.” 

“ The boys ? What boys ? ” 

“ Why, Dick, of course.” Kathie turned a fiery red. 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


265 


“ But you said boys, not boy,” Elizabeth insisted. 

“ Oh, did I ? That was a slip of the tongue, I sup¬ 
pose. We shall miss Dick, shan’t we ? ” 

“ Dreadfully.” Elizabeth’s mind was still dwelling on 
Kathie’s slip of the tongue. “ Betsy will miss Hal, too,” 
she remarked. “ Is he the other boy you meant, Kathie ? ” 

“ He is going, isn’t he ? ” said Kathie jauntily, as she 
laid down the cravat holder. “ O dear, I must get you 
that magazine before I forget it.” She went off and in 
her eagerness to get the new paper dolls Elizabeth for¬ 
got to criticize the answer. 

Mrs. Hollins returned with the news that Buth really 
had the measles, and the children must keep away from 
the gray house. 

“ And shall I have to start to school all by myself ? ” 
asked Elizabeth mournfully. 

“ Why, my dear, yes, I suppose so,” her mother said. 
“ The motor car is still away and of course you cannot 
go until that returns. Mr. Gilmore was speaking about 
it this morning, and was saying he must hurry it up, 
but now that Ruth is ill, I don’t know exactly what will 
be done about it.” 

“ Is Ruth very ill ? ” asked Elizabeth. “ I do hope 
she isn’t.” 

“ We can’t tell yet. We hope it will be only a light 
oase, though one can never tell so early.” 


266 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


She went off to help Dick pack his trunk and Eliza¬ 
beth posted off to Betsy’s to tell her the news. She 
found Betsy up in her brother’s room, looking very 
grave and doing her best to help him pack. 

“ That is just what is going on at our house,” said 
Elizabeth. “ Mother is helping Dick. Isn’t it nice, 
Betsy, that your brother and my brother will be to¬ 
gether ? I think it is quite comforting. If Dick gets 
ill why Hal can take care of him, and if Hal gets ill 
Dick can take care of Hal.” 

“ Let us hope such a necessity will not arise,” said 
Hal. “ Just hand me that flat box, Bets. Carefully, 
now ; it is very precious.” 

Elizabeth thought she would like very much to know 
what was in that box which had a strangely familiar 
look, and, as if to gratify this curiosity as well as her 
own, Betsy moved it rather unsteadily, tipping off the 
lid and exposing what it contained. 

“ Take care,” cried Hal sharply. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth, for there exposed to 
view was the very cravat case her sister had been work¬ 
ing upon that morning. 

“ O Hal, let me see,” cried Betsy. “ Isn’t that beauti¬ 
ful ! Where did you get it ? ” 

Hal gave a quick glance at Elizabeth, then he said 
quietly: “ It was a send-off present one of the girls 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


267 


made for me. This is another one.” He displayed a 
handkerchief case. “ Most as good as Christmas, isn’t 
it?” 

Betsy was quite disarmed, but Elizabeth was not, 
for had she not caught sight of a photograph in a 
silver frame lying half-concealed under the cravat 
holder ? She was wise enough to keep this discovery 
to herself, but it gave her food for thought. Some 
time or other she would ask her mother a question. 
Elizabeth smiled as certain possibilities opened up to 
her. She believed that she happened upon a secret, 
and one which pleased her very much. 

On her way home she overtook Grandpa Gil, as the 
girls called him. “ Whither away, little maid ? ” he 
said as she slipped her hand in his. 

“ Nowhere in particular,” she replied. “ I was on 
my way back from Betsy’s. How is Ruth ? ” 

“ About the same. I am afraid she is in for a long 
siege. How are those eyes getting along ? ” 

“ Oh, very well,” Elizabeth answered. “ Mother 
warns me to be careful not to strain them. She doesn’t 
let me use them too long at a time, especially at night.” 

“ Hm, hm, I see. Perhaps it is just as well that 
they should have a good rest before you begin your 
new studies. The machine is still at the repair shop, 
so I reckon the Academy will have to suffer the loss 


268 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


of your presence a while longer. Does that disappoint 
you very much ? ” 

“No-o.” Elizabeth did not care to confess how 
little it did disappoint her. “ You see it would be 
pretty lonely for me among strangers,” she added. 
“ If I had just one of my friends to go with I shouldn’t 
mind it so much. Now Euth is ill I am not so crazy 
about starting.” 

“ That is what I inferred. Well, I don’t suppose you 
will lose a great deal. We will hope that Euth may 
be ready to go with you soon.” 

But Euth was not ready to go the next week nor the 
week after that. She was still confined to her bed and 
her mother was very anxious about her. There was 
talk of taking her south when she should be well 
enough to make the journey. 

Elizabeth heard this plan with deep concern. 
“ Would they all go ? ” she asked, “ Grandpa Gil 
and all ? Would they shut up the house, and who 
would take care of the rabbits and things ? ” 

“ They would all go, no doubt,” her mother replied. 
“ Grandpa Gil is beginning to dread a cold winter, 
after his life in southern California, and they would go 
to Florida, I think. Your Cousin Tom has a very good 
overseer in Sam Nugent, and the animals would all be 
well looked after.” 


A CHANGE OF PLANS 


269 


Elizabeth considered this thoughtfully. “ It will be 
a very different winter from the one Kuth and I ex¬ 
pected,’’ she sighed. “ I don’t like the idea of their all 
going away.” 

“ That is true of all of us,” her mother answered. 
“We had looked forward to many happy times to¬ 
gether, but it is a world of uncertainties, my dear.” 

Elizabeth wondered how all these changes would 
affect herself, but she did not ask just then, for Kathie 
came in with a letter from Dick whose news of college 
they were all eager to hear. 

The boys had departed in due season and were al¬ 
ready established in what they termed their “ diggings.” 
Elizabeth noticed that Kathie made a point of getting 
the mail every day, whatever the weather, and that she 
seemed to have news of Dick’s doings from other 
sources than his weekly letters. 

The Academy had opened, and Elizabeth had re¬ 
ports of its workings from Lillie Paine whose brother 
was one of its pupils It all sounded interesting enough, 
yet Elizabeth was far more concerned in what went on 
in the little brown schoolhouse. 


CHAPTER XX 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


E LIZABETH was curled up in a big chair by the 
big window in the library. She had a most ab¬ 
sorbing book which Bess had lent her, and it was not 
to be supposed that she would give heed to anything 
else. She did not mean to be an eavesdropper, but 
suddenly her attention was removed from the page be¬ 
fore her to the conversation going on in the next room. 
Her mother and Kathie were talking, and if they didn’t 
want her to hear they should have closed the door. 

“ Rob Tyson as good as acknowledged it last night,” 
Kathie was saying. “ Every one knows that he has 
had eyes and ears for no one else ever since Miss Jewett 
came, and Will Paine says he has bought that piece of 
property next to Miss Dunbar’s little house and is going 
to build there so Miss Jewett can be near her aunt.” 

“A very nice arrangement, I should think,” said 
Mrs. Hollins. “I wonder what Miss Emily thinks 
about it.” 

“ She was deadly opposed to it at first, I think, and 
would not even consider sending Betsy to Miss Jewett, 
270 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


271 


but Rob evidently overpersuaded her, or something 
happened, for she seems very placid about it now. Of 
course she would hate to lose Rob, but there are Betsy 
and Hal, at least Hal is there during his holidays. I 
hope he won’t live there forever. I shouldn’t want to, 
I know.” 

“ My dear girl, there is a long time before that will 
have to be decided. Hal will be four years at college 
and before that time one of you may have experienced 
a change of mind, or heart, whichever you choose to 
caU it.” 

“ Don’t say such things, mother,” said Kathie pas¬ 
sionately. “ As if we could ever change. Why, I trust 
Hal as I do you, and that is saying a good deal.” 

“ You are both very young, my dear,” returned Mrs. 
Hollins. 

“We are both old enough to know our own minds,” 
insisted Kathie. “I shall never marry any one but 
Hal Tyson and he will never marry any one but me; 
you can be sure of that.” 

Elizabeth’s book paled in interest before this an¬ 
nouncement, but what she heard next concerned her 
even more. 

“ Do you suppose Elizabeth will be very much disap¬ 
pointed if she does not go to the Academy this year ? ” 
said Mrs. Hollins after a pause. “ I don’t see how we 


272 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


can manage to send her since the Gilmores will be go¬ 
ing away, and moreover, Kathie, though this I do not 
care to have you mention, your father really feels as if 
he cannot afford it. Dick’s expenses will be very heavy 
and there are so many calls upon us that your father 
has to worry more than I want to have him. I am 
very anxious to economize in every direction, but when 
I suggested that we send Elizabeth back to the village 
school for this year he would have none of it. ‘ I 
promised her,’ he said, 4 and I shall keep my word. I 
hope I have never failed my children yet.’ ” 

“That sounds just like father,” returned Kathie. 
“ To tell you the truth, I don’t believe Elizabeth would 
be one little bit disappointed if she were to give up the 
Academy for another year. She counted on going 
with Kuth, you see, and in the beginning even hoped 
that Betsy and Bess would continue to be her school¬ 
mates. She adores Miss Jewett, and except that she 
has made large boasts of being an Academy girl, I 
don’t see. but that she would be very well satisfied. I 
have been thinking of another thing, mother, since you 
told me about father. If Miss Jewett marries she will 
give up the school next year, of course, and why 
couldn’t I take it for a few years, while Hal is at col¬ 
lege ? Then I could help pay Elizabeth’s tuition.” 

This generous offer was too much for Elizabeth. She 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


273 


flung down her book and rushed into the room where 
her mother and sister were sitting. “ I couldn’t help 
hearing,” she cried. “ I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, 
mother, indeed I didn’t, but you were talking about 
such interesting things my ears got ahead of me. I 
won’t tell, Kathie, I will make a solemn vow that I will 
not. It is dear of you to say you will teach school 
so I can go to the Academy. I wish I could do some¬ 
thing, too. Maybe I can when Babs wants to go.” 
Elizabeth’s imagination was galloping far ahead. “ I 
don’t in the least mind staying away this year. Dear 
father, I should think I wouldn’t mind if it will make 
it any better for him. Besides, Kathie, you are per¬ 
fectly right. I will confess to you that I am homesick 
to go back to the old school. It gives me a distressful 
pang to hear the girls talk about it all, and when I 
think of being a lone and abandoned maiden in the 
midst of that convivial throng at the Academy my 
heart sinks down into the nethermost regions of de¬ 
spair.” 

“ Stop, stop a moment, Elizabeth,” said her mother. 
“ Why didn’t you make your presence in the other 
room known? It wasn’t very honorable to listen to 
what we were saying.” 

“ I know that, dear sainted mother, but you knew I 
was there, didn’t you ? ” 


274 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ Perhaps I did, though I had forgotten. I thought 
you were so absorbed in your book that you would not 
pay attention to what we were saying. I think you 
should have spoken sooner.” 

“ Yes, I should, I know.” Elizabeth was never one 
to shirk blame. “ But, mother, conceive how it would 
be if your mother and sister were talking about such 
vital things, could you, would it be within your im¬ 
mortal powers not to listen ? ” 

“ I admit the temptation must have been very great, 
but you must learn to resist just such temptations.” 

“I will try,” promised Elizabeth humbly. “The 
next time I hope I shall have strength enough given 
me to jump up and flee, or at least to stop my ears. I 
think maybe I’d better carry a little wad of cotton 
around with me, because I might be doing something 
that I couldn’t very well leave, or something that 
needed my hands, so I couldn’t put them over my 
ears.” 

“ How you do go on, Elizabeth,” said her sister. “ I 
am sorry you heard, but we trust to your honor not to 
repeat one word of what we have been talking about.” 

“ You can trust me, Kathie, indeed you can,” declared 
Elizabeth earnestly. “ I will keep it as sacredly as I 
would my soul’s glory, but I must tell you that I think 
Hal will make a darling brother.” 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


275 


“ I have half a mind to box your ears,” said Kathie 
half laughing, half crying. 

“ I didn’t mean to say anything disagreeable,” re¬ 
sponded Elizabeth, disturbed to find that her good 
intentions were wasted. “I only wanted to let you 
know how pleased I am.” 

“ I accept your apologies,” Katharine rejoined, “ but 
don’t mention the subject again.” 

“ O dear,” returned Elizabeth despondently. “ I was 
hoping you would talk to me about it, for it is such a 
very interesting subject.” 

“ Nevertheless, we will change it,” her sister re¬ 
marked. “Now what about your going back to the 
old school ? Are you ready to do it ? ” 

“ Indeed I am and as soon as possible. I will start 
to-morrow, if mother and father say so.” 

“ Don’t you think she’d better, mother ? ” questioned 
Kathie. 

“We will talk to her father about it,” replied Mrs. 
Hollins. 

“ May I tell him that his promise is erased from the 
tablets of my heart ? ” asked Elizabeth. 

“ You may, but I think I would put it in less ex¬ 
travagant language. I hope Miss Jewett will reduce 
your heroics into something better for every-day use.” 

Elizabeth fell into a blissful contemplation of the 


276 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

hours she would spend under the adored one’s teach¬ 
ings, and presently Bert came in clamoring for his 
midday meal. Before he was ready to start back for 
the afternoon’s session, it was practically settled that 
Elizabeth should take her old place the next morning. 
She detained Bert long enough to thrust a note into 
his hand bidding him deliver it, without fail, to Betsy. 
“ Don’t mention that I am coming back,” she charged 
him, “for I want to surprise the girls.” 

Bert promised and trudged off bearing the precious 
note wedged in his pocket with an accumulation of ob¬ 
jects which it is well Elizabeth did not see. 

Betsy found the much soiled and curiously smelling 
note in her desk when she reached the schoolroom. It 
read as follows: 

Dearest Philltpa : 

I have a most portentous divulgence to place 
before you. Do not fail to be at the trysting place this 
afternoon as soon as you come from school. I shall 
await you with joy, for the clouds have parted and 
the future once more looks bright. United we stand, 
divided we fall. 

Your devoted 

Fredrika. 

It goes without the saying that Betsy was on hand 
promptly. “I ran nearly all the way,” she panted. 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


277 


“ O Elizabeth, your note was so full of excitement. I 
can hardly wait to hear. Do tell right away.” 

Elizabeth arose from the stone on which she was 
sitting. She approached Betsy solemnly and laid her 
hands upon her friend’s shoulders looking deep into her 
eyes. “ Betsy, my first and best, my always first-best 
friend, we are not to be separated, for, Betsy, to-morrow 
I modestly return, to place myself at the feet of the 
augustly lovely Miss Jewett.” 

“ You don’t mean that you are not going to the 
Academy afjter all ? ” cried Betsy. 

“Not this year, my dear. Circumstances have so 
unfolded themselves that it seems best that I should 
wait another year.” 

“ Good! Good! ” cried Betsy. “ O Elizabeth, but I 
am glad! Much as I like Miss Jewett it does seem 
dreary without you. I miss you at every turn, and so 
does Bess.” 

“ I must say that I was getting more and more out 
of the notion of going to the Academy,” Elizabeth 
dropped down into her natural tone, “ and it did seem 
as if everything happened to prevent my going. First 
there was the motor car out of order, then Ruth was 
taken ill and now it seems she can’t go at all this year, 
so there was I, a lonely blossom left to pine on the 
stem.” 


278 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ How did it all come about ? ” asked Betsy wanting 
to hear all the ins and outs of the case. 

“ Well, I happened to hear mother and Kath talking, 
and from what they said I made out that both mother 
and father would rather I went to the village school 
another year, so it was soon settled, after I really knew 
what was best.” Elizabeth tried hard not to go too 
deeply into details. “ Betsy, dear,” she went on, “ I 
confess to you that I have been homesick for the 
old times, and that I am so relieved to be going 
back. There is one thing I wonder if you will mind. 
You will tell me the exact truth about it, won’t 
you ? ” 

“ Why, yes, if I can.” 

“ Oh, you can, well enough. Would you mind letting 
me have my old seat ? ” 

“ Why, of course you will have it unless Miss Jewett 
objects and I know she won’t. I couldn’t think of 
your sitting anywhere else.” 

“ And what about Bess ? ” 

“ Oh, Bess will be too glad to have you back again to 
make any objections about moving her seat.” 

“ Then let’s be at the schoolhouse early to-morrow so 
we can change before school takes in.” 

“ So we will, and let’s go tell Bess about it.” 

“ Oh, I meant to do that, of course. Do you suppose 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 279 

she will be much put out that she has to be second best 
again ? ” 

“ Not a bit, so long as it is you. Elizabeth, I, too, 
have a confession to make, in fact there are two,—no, 
one is a sort of suspicion, not a confession exactly.” 

“ Tell me that one first.” 

“ Well, it is this: I believe that some day Miss Jewett 
will be my aunt.” 

“O Betsy, do you really? Well, I think so, too, 
and I am not the only one. I can’t tell you who the 
others are, but I know a great many persons suspect it.” 

“ So, then, your sister can’t be my aunt and Ave shall 
not be related in that way.” 

“ There are other ways of being related,” remarked 
Elizabeth knowingly. 

“ Q Elizabeth, did you see, too ? ” 

“ See what ? ” 

“ Your sister Kathie’s photograph in Hal’s trunk ? I 
didn’t think you did because you have never mentioned 
it. I will tell you something else—hers and mine are 
the only ones he took away with him, for he left all the 
others behind.” 

“ Is that the confession ? ” 

“ Yes, that is it.” 

“ Then, Betsy, we must keep it a religious secret, but 
isn’t it a delicious one ? ” 


280 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 

“ I should think so. Now, Elizabeth, we shall be 
nearer than we dreamed, for a sister is much nearer 
than an aunt.” 

“ Yet I very much envy you the aunt.” 

“ But you have a mother,” Betsy spoke wistfully and 
Elizabeth had not another word to say. 

They went off in search of Bess whom they found 
grappling with some tough arithmetic problems. “ O 
dear, Elizabeth,” she cried, “I am so glad you have 
come. Perhaps you can help me with these. I am such 
a stupid and I can’t make them come out right. To be 
sure Miss Jewett explains them much more clearly than 
Miss Dunbar did, but even she cannot make them easy 
for a dumb creature like me.” It was only when she 
was worsted by her arithmetic that Bess took on such 
humility. 

“ I’ll help you if I can,” Elizabeth promised a little 
doubtfully, “but you know I haven’t been going to 
school this year and perhaps I don’t know those special 
problems.” 

“ O dear, I forgot that. I do miss you so much, 
Elizabeth.” Bess spoke in a woful voice. 

“Well, you are not going to miss her any more, for 
she is coming back to us to-morrow,” Betsy announced 
triumphantly. 

“ Really ? ” Bess brightened at once. “ I can’t tell 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


281 


you how glad I am. It is the best news I have heard 
in a coon’s age, as Aunt Darky says.” 

“ You won’t mind going back to your old seat, will 
you, Bess ? ” asked Betsy. 

“ Why, of course I would love to sit with Elizabeth 
myself,” returned Bess, “ but I’ll give up, of course, if 
Miss Jewett says so.” 

“ She’ll say so fast enough; you can count on that,” 
Betsy predicted. 

“ If this is the work for to-morrow I might as well 
look it over,” said Elizabeth. 

“ But you are way ahead of me,” said Bess meekly. 
“ I always lag behind all of you in this frightful arith¬ 
metic.” 

“Well, never mind, I shall probably have to review, 
and anyhow I am two weeks behind the class, and it 
won’t hurt me to polish up my wits a little.” So in a 
few minutes the three girls were busy with pencils and 
paper in order to help Bess in her struggles. 

When at last Bess had completed her work and had 
as clear an idea of what was expected of her as could 
be drummed into her unresponsive head, the three 
parted. 

Bess called after the other two: “ Stop for me on 
your way to school to-morrow.” 

“ I will,” sang out Betsy. 


282 


ELIZABETH, BETSY, AND BESS 


“ I will,” echoed Elizabeth with a warm feeling at 
heart that she could answer the old familiar call in this 
way. 

But Bess could not let them go without another 
word. She came flying after them. “ Don’t promise to 
eat your lunch with any one else, Elizabeth,” she cried. 
“ All the girls will be crazy to get you, and we three 
must not separate.” 

“Indeed then we will not,” declared Elizabeth. 
“Walk up a little way with me, girls.” Then the 
three, with arms around each other, sauntered 
slowly up the street, chattering like magpies the 
while. At a certain corner they separated. Eliza¬ 
beth walking backward called back many a last word 
until she was beyond bearing. “ Wait for me at the 
gate,” was her final call, and faintly came back, “We 
will.” 

But there was no waiting at the gate for her. 
She was up and off before the family had finished 
breakfast. She found Bess deliberately eating her 
last hot cakes. “ I’ll wait for you at Betsy’s,” sang 
out Elizabeth, not knowing how many cakes Bess 
had already consumed or how many more she might 
take. 

Bess, glad not to be hurried, answered : “ All right; 
I’ll be there.” 


ALL TOGETHER AGAIN 


283 


Betsy, more eager and less self-indulgent, would not 
linger over her last morsels, but dashed up-stairs for her 
books and was presently ready. They walked slowly 
that Bess might overtake them, which she did just be¬ 
fore the schoolhouse was reached. Miss Jewett was 
already there and greeted Elizabeth joyfully. She 
listened to the request that Elizabeth might have her 
old place and, finding that both Betsy and Bess were 
eager to make the change, she yielded and the transfer 
was made. Within an hour Elizabeth was sitting at 
her own old desk, her book before her, the sun shining 
in and making the same well-known shadows on the 
wall. The odor of apples mingled with the scent of 
the blossoming plants in the window. Elizabeth let her 
gaze wander. How good it was to see the old familiar 
rows of seats filled by the same well-known figures! 
There was Mattie Paine dimpling and smiling as she 
caught Elizabeth’s eye. There was Patsy McGonigle, 
his freckled face showing good-humoredly above his 
slate. There was Bert, who winked one eye saucily as 
he caught his sister looking at him, and, best of all, 
there was dear Miss Jewett, looking gra vely pleasant as 
became a schoolmistress, her pretty head bent over her 
desk, and the light glancing along her fair hair. How 
good it all was ! Elizabeth half turned toward Betsy 
and, taking; her hand, gave it a loving little squeeze. 


NOV 29 1913 


284 ELIZABETH, BETSY, AXD BESS 

Looking up she saw Miss Jewett give an understanding 
smile to the two friends who smiled back at her. 
Then they bent themselves to their books and the work 
of the day began. 



4 


\ 


























































































































































































































































































































































